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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953697">Drowning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSurvivor_36/pseuds/SoulSurvivor_36'>SoulSurvivor_36</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lives We Make for Ourselves [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Developing Friendships, F/M, POV Third Person Limited, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 10, Sexual Content, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:55:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSurvivor_36/pseuds/SoulSurvivor_36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is cured, and as Sam and Dean take a well earned vacation from hunting, Delilah attempts to track down Neithan following his call of distress.  Sam being occupied taking care of his recovering brother, Delilah will need to reluctantly team up with the very ones who are hunting down her angel friend.  All she can hope is that she gets to him before they do.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Delilah McAllister, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lives We Make for Ourselves [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/448921</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story spans from just after 10.03 - Soul Survivor to 10.08 - Hibbing 911.  Sometimes Delilah's story is entwined with the episodes, sometimes she only grazes it, and sometimes they run completely parallel.</p><p>Those who have read my work in this series before know that I am both canon compliant and divergent: I do try to stay true to the characters as they are portrayed in the show, but I do change things along the way.  If this is your first foray into my series, you really should start at the beginning, so check out Of Vampires and Winchesters by clicking on the "Lives We Make for Ourselves" series link.</p><p>EDIT: I hope you'll forgive me for starting to post without a finished story... This COVID thing really fucking threw me for a loop. It took my tired, mis-wired brain some time to adjust, and coaxing the muse back out was tough.</p><p>You can subscribe to the story, or even to the Lives We Make for Ourselves series to get email updates as soon as I post :-)</p><p>For those of you who didn't know, the face model for Delilah has always been Danneel Ackles in my mind and so that's who is in that composite photoshop artwork.</p><p>Title and Lyrics from this one are from Radio Company's Drowning.  Not exactly classic rock, I hope you'll forgive me, but I couldn't resist using Jensen's recent album release as inspiration...  If they can do it in the show I can do it in my fan fiction damnit! (haha)</p><p>Thanks for your continued patience and support</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hold the day</em>
</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="ujudUb">
  <p><em>Make it through and fall into the light</em> <em>All the way</em><br/><em>A carnival of causes and delight</em></p>
</div><div class="ujudUb">
  <p>
    <em>Because we can't become</em>
    <br/>
    <em>Victim of a sum</em>
    <br/>
    <em>Cradle our desire</em>
    <br/>
    <em>To keep from drowning</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb">
  <p>
    <em>Hold the day</em>
    <br/>
    <em>Oh we pray</em>
    <br/>
    <em>To make it through the night</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="ujudUb">
  <p>
    
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Neithan lay on the ground. The debris of the wall he was just blown through scattered around his body, littering the hard ground with rubble and coloured glass like scattered pieces of a crystal jigsaw puzzle.</p>
  <p>“Damnit!” he said, his tone turning to the frustration that had been growing inside of him with every failed attempt to get past the Demon King of Bla’ar.</p>
  <p>He stood up, wiping the dust from the golden magical crest that sat in the middle of his chest: a medallion without a chain, the source of his power.</p>
  <p>“Equip.”</p>
  <p>The view of the Demon King standing to the side laughing dimmed as a menu appeared in front of him. He scrolled through his stash of various spells and weapons and found that it was lacking in anything useful. He would have to leave the king behind and come back another day with a full arsenal.</p>
  <p>He remembered the village plagued by monsters a few miles away under the blue sun and as he contemplated returning to it to gain more experience and strength, the long walk ahead felt beyond the capacity of his elven legs. That and he hated side quests. He needed a rest.</p>
  <p>“Save and exit.”</p>
  <p>The valley, the ruins, the Demon King, all disappeared in a puff of smoke blown away by a good strong breeze along with his avatar. What was left was his own lanky and underfed limbs and torso and near-sighted eyes that couldn’t see a foot in front of him without the glasses perched on the crooked bridge of his nose.</p>
  <p>He looked around his bedroom, the familiar faces of the characters from his favourite games hanging from the walls, each a portal that would transport him into those games and let him run around the worlds that he loved so much. Back home, a computer had sat on a cheap birch coloured Ikea desk in front of which he had spent hours playing those same video games and pretending that he could do exactly what he was doing now, but in this place, a large television had replaced the computer so he could sit and watch his favourite movies and TV shows in full cinematographic glory from the comfort of his bed or couch or whatever he felt like. The wall of windows opposite his bed had a view to kill for and changed at any given moment to reflect his mood: thirtieth story highrise with a view on Central Park on a beautiful summer day? No problem. Fog wrapped San Francisco Bay? Duh. Immense and dark cosmos with a dying sun about to give birth to a galaxy? Why not? Virgin forest of huge redwoods filled with magical creatures? Sometimes on Tuesdays. Vast beach of fine, pure white sand on a private bay of deep turquoise, where the water was always the perfect temperature and a volcano smoked innocuously in the distance surrounded by palm trees and exotic plants? Hell yes. And so much more and all completely accessible should the mood strike him to go and explore any of these idyllic places.</p>
  <p>If he ever got lonely, he could stroll out the door and find himself in a variety of places populated by people. He could go to the library and participate in his book club, he could go to restaurants and meet up with friends for a good time. He often went to the theme park where he would eat cotton candy and ride the rollercoasters until he felt sick (best part was that he and his buddies could always skip the lines). He could go shopping or even catch the latest concert of his favourite bands, a sea of fans pressing in on him in the frenzy of common adoration.</p>
  <p>His favourite place to go though, and where he was heading now, was the coffee shop. It was a perfect little bistro style shop with tables and benches and a cute barista who always smiled at him warmly. One day he would pluck up the courage to ask for her number.</p>
  <p>The coffee shop was always busy, but his spot in his favourite booth was always available, a perpetual “reserved” sign keeping others at bay, and he would sit there for hours watching the strange and mundane inhabitants of the coffee shop’s city (was it Chicago? Or maybe Milan? Could be somewhere in France or even Venus, it really didn’t matter) as they walked past the window.</p>
  <p>Neithan sat down with his custom vanilla butterscotch iced latte and he pulled his cell phone from out of his pocket. He held it to his ear.</p>
  <p>“Hey! Do you have time for a chat? Catch me up on what’s going on?”</p>
  <p>“That is not possible at the moment, Neithan.”</p>
  <p>“Why not?”</p>
  <p>“I cannot talk.”</p>
  <p>Neithan frowned and stared at his disconnected phone. What? He put aside his drink and stood from the table. With a determined step, he strolled to the coffee shop door and stepped out onto the sidewalk where he willed himself into his body.</p>
  <p>It had been a while since his last visit to the world outside his mind and it took him a moment to adjust to the surroundings. As far as he could tell, he was standing in a field at night. It looked like a remote area, he couldn’t even hear the distant sounds of cars or the bustle of a country village. There was the sound of a breeze blowing through distant trees and flattening the long grasses. If Neithan didn’t know any better, he would say that he was in one of his own simulations.</p>
  <p>Except for the blood and the body in front of him. A blond woman was crouched over it with a long, triple-edged blade in her hand. There was a man standing by looking angry. Neithan’s mind raced to understand what was happening, feeling his subconscious trying to pull him back to where the pictures were safe. He fought against it though, needing to understand, because this was the real world. This was where his real body was physically standing in the place where there were consequences for things like this.</p>
  <p>This was real.</p>
  <p>“What have you done, Adina?” said the angry man.</p>
  <p>“What I had to do to protect us. To protect our freedom.”</p>
  <p>The man grabbed the woman’s arm and pulled her to her feet, Neithan could feel his heartbeat accelerating like he was watching a scary movie, only this was no movie. This was happening! Right now! He had to get away from there.</p>
  <p>“What the fuck!” he found himself saying, the words pushed out through his throat and cracking in a way that it did not do when he was in his private space.</p>
  <p>The man and the woman looked up right at him and frowned. The killer took a step towards him, gripping her blade tightly. It was the last thing he saw before he was seized by an intense vertigo; the world around him spun, his stomach churned and burned as his brain tried to find its equilibrium.</p>
  <p>When everything finally settled, he found himself alone, lying on his bed, in his room. Spring loaded, he jumped up and rushed to the door in the wall that would lead him back to the coffee shop and back to his body except when the door swung open on its hinges, he was met with a solid brick wall.</p>
  <p>He slapped his palms against the brick and yelled.</p>
  <p>“Alariel! Let me out!”</p>
  <p>He tried closing the door and opening it again, but the brick remained. He tried opening the windows and stepping out that way, but the mechanism would not budge. He tried to turn on the television and tune it to what was happening in the outside world, but all he could find was static.</p>
  <p>Then, from the TV static, a distorted voice spoke out like he had somehow shot himself straight into Poltergeist:</p>
  <p>“Neithan. Alariel. It’s me, Delilah. So… um… call me 785-555-1839.”</p>
  <p>“DELILAH!” Neithan yelled, throwing himself at the television and hitting the channel up button searching for something that wasn’t all static and blank. He begged and pleaded with every new channel, but it was 100 channels of absolute nothing.</p>
  <p>Then it hit him. She gave him a number, maybe he could call. He just had to break through Alariel’s block long enough to get a signal out. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment. It was the tool the angel had given him to easily communicate with him if he wanted to talk, but what if he could use it to send his call out?</p>
  <p>He looked around the room, fully realizing that everything he saw was only a construct, like in the Matrix. If Neo could change the construct in that world, then he could do it in this one. The television was also a portal into the part of his mind that was connected to the angel, just like the door had been a manifestation of that connection.</p>
  <p>Alariel was too strong to allow Neithan to completely escape, but all he needed was a tiny connection. Just for a moment. Neithan closed his eyes and focused on what he wanted, what he needed in the room with him. When he opened his eyes, he found a retro Mac on a simple desk with a rickety chair on wheels set up against the brick wall that blocked off the bedroom door. He bent down to look underneath it and found a modem cable side-by-side with a telephone outlet. He carefully approached the desk to find a landline phone sitting on top of a large square box with a single blinking red light.</p>
  <p>With shaky hands, he turned the old computer on and the red light began to blink faster. More instinct than knowledge, he clicked on the old internet icon and listened while the modem connected to the phone and dialed. The little light on the box went from red to green and he opened a browser window. A message box appeared like thousands of pop ups all over the internet, except this one said “Would you like to make a call?”</p>
  <p>“You bet your ass I do.”</p>
  <p>He pulled the keyboard up and typed in the phone number Delilah’s scratchy TV voice had said and he waited, his very lungs stilling, his heart slowing, time stopping, while the computer beeped and dialed.</p>
  <p>The phone rang through the computer’s speakers, and Neithan was beyond caring that any of it made any sense. When the ringing suddenly stopped, there was silence on the line, but he wasn’t disconnected.</p>
  <p>“Delilah?” The line began to crackle and scratch and he knew he didn’t have much time before Alariel would shut him down. What did it look like out there? Did he have a phone to his ear? Neithan didn’t care. “I need your help.”</p>
  <p>The line cut and a dead tone bounced on the walls and into his ears and around and around. He slammed his fists down on the old desk and tried again, but there was nothing but static, and the little light on the modem box had gone out completely.</p>
  <p>With a frustrated yell, he sent the whole set up crashing to the floor. He punched and kicked at the walls and even tried to throw a chair at the glass panes, but no matter what he did, and no matter how he screamed and yelled, the results were the same: he was trapped, alone, his perfect world now reduced to a jail cell the size and shape of his bedroom.</p>
  <p>👼</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The clock on the wall did not tick; it whirred. Loudly. Delilah stared at the long hand as the mechanism slowly prepared to shift the cheap plastic pointer a little further along the circle’s arch. It wasn’t quite pointing at the roman numeral V but it clicked in place a notch closer and steadied. Each minute passed in excruciating slowness and yet time moved in leaps and bounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah glanced down at the phone resting on her folded leg and tapped the screen. She registered the difference between the time there and what the clock on the wall said and then she turned off the screen again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The television burst into dark grey clouds lined in oranges, reds and yellows concealing the building that had been there a moment before. It failed to surprise or distract Delilah though as she once again glanced at her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of giggling drifted over to her from the dining room table where Alex and Iris were supposed to be doing homework, or working on some school project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Imagine Dragons is life, I cannot believe you never heard of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright girls, time to pick this up, dinner’s ready in five minutes. Delilah, are you joining us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah glanced at the clock as it clicked in place over the V and things continued to fail to happen. She ran a hand over her face, trying to snap herself out of her stupor long enough to appease Jody’s worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old couch springs whined and complained as she shifted forward to grab the remote off the small table and turn off the television she hadn’t been watching. The back of her fingers knocked against a clear tumbler and she closed them around it. Finding it wasn’t quite empty, she knocked back the contents, the alcohol barely registering on her desensitized taste buds. She stood up to bring the tumbler to the kitchen and help Jody with the final prep while Alex and Iris put their school things away and giggled in the carefree way two teenage girls should be allowed to giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was glad that the Wendigo attack and subsequent memorial for the victims hadn’t ruined their bond. Iris lost a few friends that night, but it seemed to have made her all the more attached to those who remained. She was a tough one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything good?” Jody asked her as she opened the dishwasher and put away her glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peachy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thank God I have a cheery teenager in the house to lighten the mood around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Jody. I’m just a little distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’ve been distracted for a few weeks now. I thought you had gotten past this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So did I. I don’t know. Cabin fever maybe? I need to get moving, go out on the open road or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t. You need to settle down again. Find your footing. Heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah stretched out her arms and twisted and rotated every which way in the kitchen, narrowly missing Jody’s ducking head. “All good here, Sheriff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good, but I really wasn’t referring to your body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a damn shame,” Delilah said with a suggestive quirk of her lips that Jody answered with an unamused pursing of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crack that wise ass attitude as much as you want, you know I’m right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Delilah could answer, her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She pulled it out quickly and rushed out of the kitchen. Her heart rate spiked in anticipation. Her shoulders dropped quickly though seeing the caller ID.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sam,” she said into the phone making her way back to the office she was still using as a bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Whatever disappointment she had felt not seeing the name she had wanted on the ID was quickly replaced with the well-being she always felt lately when talking with Sam. “How’s vacation treating you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice. Quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hell right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s really not that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah laughed, “Spoken like a true workaholic, Sam!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Har, har. No seriously, it’s great. I’m sitting beside a mountain lake with a beer. Totally relaxed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you mean going out of your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a little. But I needed this. Dean too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to ignore the jab of discomfort brought on by the mention of his brother’s name. Lights seemed to dim and turn red around her and suddenly she was in the bunker’s hallways again, choking on fear as the monster stalked her. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to shake it off, but Dean’s face was in front of her again, that hungry look in his eyes as he pressed her back against the wall, his fingers--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delilah?” She startled and found herself still sitting on Jody’s office couch, her lungs on fire from holding her breath. “You still there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Sam,” she said, breathing out and trying to steady her racing heart. “I’m still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing? Everything OK in Sioux Falls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah smiled, Sam always gave her an out when he asked about her. Like he was giving her the opening to talk about herself, or she could deflect and talk about more general things. Which she almost always did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is great around here, you know, living the boring suburban dream: sipping margaritas and Betty Crocker-ing my way through life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam laughed, “I’m gonna call bullshit on that, but you tell yourself what you want. Did you start looking for a job?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t go back to that Sam, come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just following up on what we talked about last week.  So if you’re not job hunting, what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s finger itched and her whole body twitched and her thoughts turned to the whispers in her mind that had grown louder and harder to ignore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking seriously about going back to hunting.” She waited for Sam’s reaction, feeling resistant to the idea that she needed his, or anyone else’s permission, and yet--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alone?” was all he asked, his voice betraying only his usual concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I have to. I know you’re busy with… for now, but I want to get back out there. I want to help people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand the need to keep moving, to stay distracted from dealing with your own issues, Delilah. But, do you really think this is the best way to do that? Hunting is dangerous. Doing it alone even more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thank you, Captain Obvious! I’m a big girl, Sam. I know how to handle myself. And I also know when to ask for help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna stop you--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you really can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can’t. You’re going to do what you want to do.” Delilah quirked her lips, awesome Sam. “But be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks. And if it looks like things are gonna get hairy, get out of there and call for back up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And don’t shut out the people who love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious. When you’re hunting, it becomes everything, a single driving purpose, and it’s easy to forget that there are people who care about you. Don’t shut them out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright. Jesus, Sam. You’re turning into a huge ball of mush. I think your mountain lake is turning your brain to mud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or maybe it’s giving me a new perspective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm… Nope. Mush brain. All the way. Are you guys changing vacation spots, or are you sticking to the quiet mountain lake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… Actually, we might have caught a hunt not too far from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded her head and laughed. “And you were trying to make me feel like hunting was a bad idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not and you know it. Stop twisting my words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vacation’s over then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it couldn’t go on forever, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right.” The sigh that Sam breathed into the phone suggested that maybe a part of him had not wanted the vacation to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You be careful too, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They signed off and Delilah tapped the end button on her phone. The smell of roast floated to her as she opened the office door and a pang of guilt hit her: Jody was not going to be as easy as Sam to convince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She made her way down the hall and around the corner in the living room, listening as Iris’ chatter drifted out, the sounds of utensils scraping plates and serving spoons clunking against dishes rang in her ears like firecrackers making her startle. She reluctantly pulled out her chair from where she normally sat at the dining table and started to run through the motions of the dance of normalcy: plop food on plate, push food around, nibble enough to make a dent, nod when appropriate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that Sam on the phone?” Jody asked her, like Sam was just some guy from the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was checking in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doing OK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like it. Taking it easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those boys have earned their vacation time, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded and moved peas around her plate while Dean pressed against her in a red lit hallway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I tried to forget you. I fucked every bar wench and stripper from here to Michigan and back and all I could think about was how your legs wrap around me when I sink my cock into you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered and put her fork down, what semblance of an appetite she’d had before now completely gone. Conversation continued around her as she tried to escape the latest attack on her mind from her own memories. She gulped down her glass of water, trying to fight the smell of him, wrapping its tendrils and squeezing her lungs. The sound of chatter around her was beating at her ears while his fingers choked her neck and tore her dress in two. He drove his cock into her and his fists flew at her face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, Lilah.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His fingers squeezed her throat, his scent constricted her lungs. Can’t breathe. Help!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation stopped and she slowly became aware that she was standing, her chair knocked back and lying on the floor and her hands were gripping the table edge so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Everyone was looking at her. Quickly, she grabbed her empty glass from the table and walked out to the kitchen as though all she had wanted was to refill it. She stood at the sink, letting the water run while she waited for it to cool down. She tried taking deep breaths, fighting against that feeling that she couldn’t breathe, fighting against the weight of her memories and she sobbed softly. How was she supposed to stop the pain?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The evening moved on, her suffering no match for the march of time, and soon it was time for Iris to go home. Delilah had managed to slam the lid shut on her emotions and she felt like she was in control again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take Iris back home, Jody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Alex, mind giving me a hand with cleaning up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s response was lost as Delilah closed the door and followed Iris out to the Blue Devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a damn sweet ride, Delilah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, friend of mine restored it, thought it would look bad ass idling in a suburban South Dakota driveway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iris plunked herself down into the passenger side seat with a smile on her face, her messy, bleach fried hair curling in clumps around her youthful face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” the teen started, three turns and a whole neighbourhood later, “Kill any monsters lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah glanced at her but was quick to bring her eyes back to the dark roads. “That’s hardly an appropriate topic of conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what Jody says too, but if I’m not supposed to talk about this crap with “normies” how the hell am I supposed to process and deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Normies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know. Them, out there. The ones who didn’t almost get eaten by a walking nightmare. Normal people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took a steadying breath. “I don’t think I’m the best person to be talking to about this stuff, Iris.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you are. I think you’re trying to deal with shit, same as I am. And same as Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with Alex?” Delilah asked, suddenly concerned about her surrogate niece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s hurting. She’s dealing with shit teens like us shouldn’t have to deal with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has she talked to you about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iris crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “No. Not really. She told me she was raised by monsters, and that you and Sheriff Mills saved her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jody did the saving, mostly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. That’s all she’s told me though. I just want to be able to talk about this stuff with someone. Maybe then I can, I dunno…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go back to being one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>normies</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Iris shifted and turned her head to look out the window, but didn’t answer. Delilah took a deep breath. She didn’t know what words to say to make the suffering kid feel better, all she knew was that sugar coating a big pile of shit wouldn’t do anything. “You know you can’t, right? For better or worse, this experience, this knowledge you now have, it changes everything. I wish I could tell you there was a way back to a time before you knew what was out there, but there isn’t. This is the world you live in now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence filled the car as headlights swept them from hood to trunk and on down the road in the opposite direction. The sound of the wheels scraping against the chipped asphalt was loud as a swarm of bumble bees while Iris leaned her chin on her arm against the edge of the closed window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know… You kinda suck at pep talks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did try to warn you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled the car into the girl’s driveway and she wasted no time in pushing the door open and stepping out. Delilah watched as she hesitated before closing it again. She was gazing off into the darkness between the hedge and the house’s brick corner like she was trying to decide if there was something lurking in the shadows, waiting to chow down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna fix it, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fix what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fucking world! That’s your job, isn’t it? You track down and kill evil sonsabitches, you said so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iris didn’t give her a chance to answer. She slammed the car door shut and rushed to her front door, key ready to slip into the lock so she could put a door between herself and the monsters as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah found herself mourning lost innocence once again as she drove back to Jody’s house. She walked in through the door, shrugging off her jean jacket, to find Jody sitting in her chair and watching TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything go well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that. Or you could call it a screaming train wreck. Your pick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah toed off her boots and let herself fall back onto the couch, stretching out on the three-seater, a throw pillow under her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah raised her head and turned to look at Jody. She was turned towards the television and showed no sign that the words had come from her at all. Delilah put her head back down on the pillow and stared blankly at the screen too. “You and me both, Sheriff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I’m happy she’s making friends, but her behaviour. It’s been getting increasingly out of character lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell do we know about what is in or out of character for a teenage girl who was raised by vampires? I think it’s amazing she’s as balanced as she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know? She doesn’t talk to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s dealing however she can. There are no self-help books out there for this kind of thing, Jody. We just have to take it one day at a time. She has friends. That’s a good start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I’m worried about. Ever since Iris appeared, Alex is acting differently. She’s giving me attitude, she’s not taking her studies seriously, she’s blowing off classes--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gym is not a class.” Delilah just caught Jody’s frown before she went back to staring at the TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I smelled pot on her clothes the other day when I was doing laundry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations, Sheriff! It’s a teenager!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep it down.” Jody paused. “I just don’t know where I’m supposed to draw the line. Do I ignore everything she’s been through? Am I indulging her too much because of it? Am I supposed to be more strict?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just worry that maybe these kids she’s hanging out with aren’t the right kind of friend for Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan, Delilah sat up so she could look at Jody. “Well, it’s a little late now to slam the breaks on it. With what those kids went through together? That kind of bond won’t disappear just because of parental disapproval. Besides, Iris is OK. She talks a mean game, but she’s just a lost kid. Like all of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah noted the dark rings under Jody’s eyes and she could feel her exhaustion mirrored in her own. It was weariness that sank deep into her bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s everything at work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, same old. Still dealing with the fallout from the Wendigo. And there’s nothing quite like being Sheriff in a city where people think a serial killer is on the loose. I wish I could tell them the threat’s been dealt with, but without someone to take the fall, no one would believe it. And the press is giving me whiplash. One day, I’m a damn superhero for rescuing the four sole survivors of a madman and the next I’m swamped in criticism for not doing enough to protect Sioux Falls and its people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the mayor threatened to take my badge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stupidest thing she could ever do. You are great at your job. All this will blow over soon. Have you ever considered telling that blowhard about your above and beyond special duties?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And burden someone else with that shitshow? No. Better to bear it alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah had nothing to toss back, nothing to say to comfort, allow or distract, because she was right. Of course she was right. Once you know about what lurks in the dark, you will only ever see the light for the shadows that it casts. Burdening the innocents of the world with that knowledge was cruel. Let them be the heroes fighting the shadows so others could enjoy the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>If I kill you, will my memories of you die too? Or maybe, I need to fuck you one last time, get you out of my system.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Can’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No one gives a shit about you. You’re a self-serve, junk food stand: people take what they need and then forget you were ever more than just something to throw away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasp. Choke. The water closing in over her head, the darkness pulling her down. She kicked at the wetness as the light grew fainter.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All she wants is to be bent over a table and fucked raw.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sob. Please! Kick. Struggle. I can’t breathe!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah tossed and turned, her feet caught up in the throw blanket. Her eyelids fluttered like trapped butterflies before they finally opened, bringing her nightmares crashing into the room. His hands crushed her windpipe as she struggled to draw a breath. His weight pressed down on her and he looked down at her with that cold indifferent violence in his green eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a choked gasp Delilah forced herself to sit up on the couch, driving the dream back out of the real world where she was struggling to take a breath. She looked from couch to desk to shelves and to the framed replica of an antique map of South Dakota hanging on the wall above her and finally, the pressure began to ease up and she could breathe. With each gulp of air that made it into her lungs, Delilah could feel her racing heart slow and her nerves steady until finally she let herself fall back onto her sweat soaked pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” she whispered into the dark room while her mind caught up and anchored her solidly once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave her body the chance to calm down a little more, but it was clear that sleep would not be happening again tonight. She reached for her phone and groaned: it was barely past 2AM.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah curled her legs over the edge of the couch seat and dropped her face in her hands. She was fighting hard to hold back the swell of tears her panic spikes always seemed to trigger since her return from the bunker. The underlying anger would chase those away quickly enough though. She refused to be a victim. She would not let herself feel helpless and frail. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, and she would not go back to being scared. Fuck Dean Winchester for making her feel this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rage swelled and grew and Delilah squeezed her fists tightly feeling the strength of it shaking through her. Energizing her. She wanted to punch, kick, kill. She needed to give her anger a target, or it would consume her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah stood up, grabbed her jeans off the floor, and slipped them on. She shifted the contents of her duffel bag around to make sure she had what she needed before heading out of the room. She jammed her feet into her boots and walked out into the brisk nighttime air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sweat pearled her forehead, and damped her hair as she punched and kicked relentlessly. Her breath was short but measured as her heart pumped. The blood rushed in her ears blocking out all distractions, allowing her to focus entirely on her target. With every hit she landed, his face was broken and shattered, his body damaged and bruised. She was in full control. He would not hurt her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thud of her fists on the punching bag brought Delilah some relief from the rage and the pain inside, but there was always more to swell again and attempt to overwhelm her. The harder she hit, the worse it got, and his face mocked her, his words a constant taunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped for breath but she could not let up. He would not win! She would beat this. Her heart pumped hard into her head like a mantra, or a desperate prayer: I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warning chill danced down her spine and tickled her scalp and she swung around, her fists closed tightly as first one and then the other connected with soft flesh before she could stop herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow, ow, ow! Damnit!” he said as he stepped back out of her reach, rubbing at the spot on his arm where her nylon wrapped knuckles had connected with his block.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing sneaking up on someone like that? You’re lucky I wasn’t holding a fucking weapon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man smiled broadly. “Sorry, I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. Gyms these days, right? Danger around every corner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah could feel the adrenaline draining out of her and she looked around at the deserted space. Machines and weights were clustered around the elevated boxing ring of the club, but they were silent and still in the small hours of the night. Only the generic club music pouring out of the speakers that never seemed to turn off accompanied their late night conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a good right hook you got there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah rolled her eyes and started pulling her hand wraps apart. “You mean for a girl, right asshole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been training here for years, guy or girl, that was a damn good punch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked sideways at the man who had chosen to accost a woman on her own, beating the shit out of a bag in the middle of the night. He was dressed for the gym, so at least he had that going for him, but clearly he hadn’t started his workout yet; his short, dark hair was still immaculate, no sweat glimmered on his bare shoulders or soaked his tank top. Delilah gave him an evaluative once over and found him adequate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And do you always train in the middle of the night?” she asked him, already knowing the answer. She had been coming here almost every night since her return to Jody’s and she had noticed him a few times, along with some of the other night owls that she crossed paths with sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I work a late shift. I like to hit the gym before I head home, like a lot of people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a lopsided grin that looked entirely too rehearsed to be genuine. Delilah wondered if he had snagged himself more than one pretty little innocent thing with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, that means you’re heading home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just got here. I didn’t even get my workout in yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took a step closer, feeling the return of the rush of blood in her ears, her body pumping it into her sex, making it throb unexpectedly. A quick check of his body language, and the particular way his eyes kept straying down to her chest, and Delilah guessed he wouldn’t be averse to a little adult activity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, I could give you a private work out,” she said, trying to remember how this particular part of the dance went. She ran her finger tips along his perfectly cut arm. When she looked up and locked stares with him, she let her budding excitement grow and swell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm, were you thinking of using me like a punching bag? ‘Cause there’s a perfectly good ring right there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah stepped closer, leaving only the barest of space between their bodies. “I don’t think that ring is appropriate for what I have in mind.” She wrapped her fingers around what she could of his upper arm and squeezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand was on her hip and he kneaded the soft flesh above her pelvic bone roughly, gripping tightly. “I can’t imagine the kind of workout we can do at my place, that we can’t right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you can. Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. Haven’t been thinking about it since you walked in here and saw me kicking the shit out of that bag.” Delilah stepped away from him suddenly and turned around, gathering her gear. “But, it’s possible I guess, that I misread the situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt his fingers wrap easily around her wrist and yank her back to him. “Cock tease,” he growled between his teeth in a mild threat. Her excitement grew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t tease. If you want my body, you’re free to it. My only condition is we go where there’s a bed. Your place, or a fleabag motel, I don’t give a shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled her closer, his free hand returning to her hip, then smoothing down to her ass, gripping it tightly. His nose dropped into the crook of her neck and for a moment, Delilah’s breath hitched uncomfortably. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe, I need to fuck you one last time. Really get you out of my system.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah shuddered, but quick as lightning, she grabbed at the flesh between his legs and squeezed. He let her go immediately, groaning. “I said, not here, asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She released him and he breathed out sharply. “You’re a fucking, crazy--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I’m also the best fucking lay you’ll ever have, so here’s the deal. There’s a motel a few blocks down from here. I’m gonna get a room and go take a shower. I’ll leave the door unlocked, all you have to do is not be a jackass, and show up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I know which room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See the car out front?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The blue Chevelle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah ignored his mistake, “That’s my car. I’ll park it in front of whichever room I’m in. The rest you can figure out yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah let the hot water run down her skin and rinse away the sweat that had started to dry on her body. “What the hell am I doing?” she whispered into the steam. She could feel him again. His hands on her body, his breath in her ear, the slice of cold blade against her skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ripe for the fucking. All she wants is to be bent over that table and fucked raw.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned the water off and stepped out of the tub. She dried herself off with a towel wondering if the meat head had figured out where she was yet or if she had over estimated his intelligence. She had already been there twenty minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped in front of the small bathroom mirror and studied the girl in the glass for a moment. The injuries she had sustained from her confrontation with the Wendigo had faded to thin pink lines that were barely noticeable under anything but the brightest light. The cut she got from the angel blade was a different story. She looked down at the curved line that went from her pubis up along her groin and pelvic line to finally curl up on her abdomen near her hip. It had been a bitch to heal, and she had pulled at it a few times when she wasn’t paying attention, giving the thin, clean cut a more stretched line in some places. The scar was only visible when she was naked, the bulk of it normally hidden by her panties and her jeans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” the distinctly male voice called out from the front room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And bingo! Delilah didn’t bother putting any of her clothes back on. She didn’t bother holding onto her towel either. She walked out of the bathroom and into the small, single room that barely had space in it for the queen bed, dresser, TV and a small countertop over the mini fridge. He was standing at the foot of the bed holding a bag from a local convenience store. His eyes went wide when they fell on her. She let him give her naked body a slow sweep from her legs all the way up her torso.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamn. You don’t fuck around do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You took your sweet time getting here, so I took care of the preliminaries.” Delilah stalked up to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to get some supplies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Her mouth crashed against his and she kissed him hungrily, slipping her tongue along his lips between desperate presses of their mouths. She could feel his hands running over her body. Her back at first, but he quickly grew bolder, kneading her ass as he pulled her against him, one hand sliding to her front and cupping her breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple and a ripple went through her, pulling at her arousal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know your name,” he said, pulling away for a moment to draw a shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I moan into your ear as I’m fucking you, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moan your mother’s name for all I care. Are we done talking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re fucking twisted, you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lay down on the bed, pulling him down on top of her as she stroked and caressed his body, pulling off his pristine gym clothes until he was pressing his hot skin against hers. She could feel his hardened cock pushing against her pelvis, the dull throb of pressure against her healed cut only a little annoying. He rut against her, already groaning in her ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can smell you getting wet, Lilah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah gasped at the memory overlay, and he sighed oblivious, kissing a trail back to her mouth. Delilah flipped them, mounting his lap and bending down over his torso to lick and kiss at his skin. She made her way down his heaving stomach, ignoring his groans and whispered swearing, wishing he would be quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bucked into her mouth when she wrapped her lips around his cock, sucking on the head while she licked at the leaking pre-come. She sucked him in, letting his cock slide deep into her throat. She licked and pulled, working him slowly at first, tasting him, relishing the feel of him against her tongue, the size of him in her mouth, but speeding up with every throb of her desire and the sharp pain of his fist tightening in her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God! Fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah moved up his body again until she was straddling his chest. “I said, shut up. You make too much noise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a goddamn motel. Who cares?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Delilah whispered, crawling over his shoulders and settling her knees on either side of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked down at him as he wrapped an arm around one of her thighs. “What are you expecting me to do with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck do you think, asshole. Now shut up and get to it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah leaned forward, folding her arms against the top of the headboard. His hand pressed against her ass and she let him guide her until they were lined up. His breath was warm as it connected with her most sensitive skin and she stretched and writhed into the feel of his tongue as he lapped at her. His hand moved away from her thigh and he slipped first one finger and then another into her pussy, pushing into her roughly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a relief to feel her body reacting to his touch, the blood pumping hard through her veins, the feel of the throb in her sex. She felt so good, her body heavy with want and desire. God, she missed feeling like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let the lazy waves of arousal wash over her as he stroked and licked. Then, with a gasp and another shudder, she rolled away and onto the pillows beside him. He grabbed her ankle and yanked her down, dragging her onto her back beside him as he mounted her, grinding against her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Condom,” she gasped into his ear, feeling the familiar desperation growing, the need to have him drive into her hard and fast. He moved away and she heard the rustling of the plastic bag as he foraged for his supplies. He was back quickly enough and lying between her legs. She drew up her knees, but he wasn’t waiting for an invitation. No sooner his cock wrapped in latex he drove it into her, grunting into her neck as he buried himself deeply. She welcomed him with a cry, letting him beat the darkness back with every spring-squeaking thrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her relief was palpable, a weighted blanket soothing away her worry about that which she could not control. There was nothing else but the moment, the past and all its ghosts banished and leaving her present and aware of only the feel of their bodies. Every brush of his hand on her skin, every drop of sweat, every sensitive nerve amplified the frenzy of physical pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of it meant anything, there was no underlying note of budding emotions, no feelings coming to crowd out the pleasure and confuse her. There was just raw, physical bliss and she gave in to it completely. She let it take up all the space in her mind, pushing away any self-doubt or anger that was still left over from everything she had experienced in the last few months. All the bad melted away and there was no room left for anything but the feel of a strange man’s cock as it drove into her over and over.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time to get you out of my system asshole. One junk food take-out at a time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled into the driveway and parked the Demon in its spot beside the Sheriff’s pick up truck, pulling on the handbrake in a now engrained reflexive movement that she didn’t even think about anymore, like switching off a light when leaving a room, or checking the bullet clip and safety on her gun. Do something often enough and you stop thinking about the individual actions required to complete it; it just becomes a simple whole: she parked the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parking was usually followed quite closely by getting out of the car, which involved another series of actions: palming keys, pulling on the handle, stepping out, pushing in the locking pin and closing the door. It also could involve retrieving her bag from the back seat, or sometimes the trunk, but this morning the sequence was interrupted by a memory. And not the one she had expected either. Often, when she got home, her mind would stray back to the tree in the front yard, now in full leaf, but then still barely budding, and the attack from Dean: her first encounter with the demon, that had led to the one in the red lit hallways of the bunker. That memory had often been the cause in the past few weeks of her walking into the house distracted, angry and feeling helpless. Her only escape from those feelings was to sit on the couch in front of generic television and knock back a couple fingers of whiskey, a few times. Wet, lather, rinse, repeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory that assaulted her now was far from the energy sapping memories of Dean Winchester. In fact, as she stood beside the car, suddenly struck immobile as she bent behind her seat to grab her gym bag, Delilah felt energized, motivated, and ready to jump into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need your help.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a kid out there who needed her to come to the rescue. What the hell had she been doing sitting around getting drunk and feeling sorry for herself? When Alex had needed her, she had moved Heaven and Earth to save her. Now it was Neithan’s turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah walked into a house already bustling with early weekday morning activity. Jody was trying to pry Alex from her bed alternating between threats of making her walk to school if she missed the bus again and authoritative cajoleries about the necessities of going to school and the wonders of learning the brick and mortar building would hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! You’re back. Where’d you go off to in the middle of the night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody had turned the corner and spotted Delilah in the entrance as she removed her boots and jacket. She responded by swinging her gym bag, getting a nod from the Sheriff who was used to Delilah’s less than friendly responses to being interrogated. She walked past her and around the living room wall, disappearing into the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need any help in here?” she asked, following Jody who was bustling around the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got this covered. ALEX!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to toss her into the shower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she’s just torturing me for her twisted amusement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that means we can’t torture her back for ours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody’s tone softened as she turned to give Delilah a slow once over. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happens.” Delilah moved to the coffee machine and started prepping it to make a pot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Except it really doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just feel good, why do I need a reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK. So how ‘bout you tell me why you think you can’t tell me the reason. Because yes there’s a reason, and yes you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned to face Jody, leaning back on the counter. “You won’t like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean you hide it from me, Delilah. I may be the adoptive mother to a recluse, near-deviant teenager, but I’m your friend too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’m a deviant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah and Jody turned around quickly, finding a fully dressed Alex with her backpack on her shoulder standing on the other side of the breakfast counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex, honey, that’s not--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a bus to catch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned around and stomped out of the house, slamming the front door on the way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jody sighed, covering her face with her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That girl has the timing of a Looney Toons cartoon.” Delilah turned back to look at Jody, who was looking like a train had run her over. “She’ll be fine, Jody. You remember being a teenager. You get angry and annoyed at everything and everyone, it doesn’t mean she’s going to stop coming home. Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re doing great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I? ‘Cause the more we do this dance, the more I wonder if I’m doing anything right at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think every parent has those doubts. Questioning yourself is how you make sure you are doing the best you can. I’m pretty sure my dad never thought twice about his parenting strategy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jody looked up at Delilah quietly, not saying anything. Delilah stared back, not sure what had prompted her to bring up her childhood like that, but wishing she hadn’t. It was threatening her mood, and her new found purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tense moment passed as Delilah worried Jody would ask questions, would poke and prod until the whole story came tumbling out. When she didn’t, Delilah sighed with mixed feelings and gratefully changed the subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve decided to go look for Neithan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neithan? Isn’t that the name of your angel friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically Neithan is the vessel. And I think he might be in trouble. He reached out to me a couple weeks ago but I haven’t heard from him since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you keep jumping when your phone rings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m worried. I think something happened to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said he was a vessel. Isn’t the angel enough to protect him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I got the feeling that Neithan was in trouble, not the angel. Maybe they had a falling out, I don’t know. I’ve never met an angel who interacted with his vessel the way they do. I mean, all the other angels I met kind of just shove their vessels’ personalities aside like tied up victims in the trunk of a car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice analogy there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Neithan, it was different, it’s like they talk to each other, passenger and driver. Anyways, I keep thinking that there’s something going on with the angel and he’s stopping Neithan from reaching out again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or, you’re letting your imagination paint a picture darker than it really is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, maybe, except, if that’s the case, why wouldn’t he call me again? I’ve been reaching out to him almost every day. Castiel told me that if I pray, the angel hears me. So, why is he not calling back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking it’s because he can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either because the angel isn’t letting Neithan, or maybe even it’s the angel who’s in trouble. The point is I don’t know. And it’s clear to me that without going out there and actively seeking him out, I’m not going to get any answers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you talked to Sam about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t yet, but I will. I told him I wanted to go back to hunting. This just feels like a natural place to start. Helping a friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My first stop is the bunker. There’s a lot of angel lore I can look through, maybe I’ll find something helpful. I’ve never tried to track down an angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How old is this Neithan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The vessel? He’s just this goofy kid. Maybe 16?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’s been possessed by the angel since that thing last year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that look, Jody. What’re you thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking that a year is a long time for a teen to be away from home without his parents sending up red flags. I’m thinking his face might be on a few milk cartons. And if that’s the case, maybe we can find him that way. At least get some more info, give you a place to start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jody! You’re a genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah. You think they gave me this badge because of my pretty face? I do know a thing or two about finding missing folk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where do we start?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Neithan sat at his usual table in the café. Alariel sat across from him, his facial expression neutral as they quietly talked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they had first met, Alariel hadn’t used a projection, rather he had spoken directly to Neithan with this disembodied voice.  And it had made him feel like he was losing his mind. When he had told the angel he was in danger of liquefying his brain, the solution he had come up with had left Neithan even more shaken; staring at himself sitting across a table top just really didn’t do it for him. So Alariel had dug through a collection of Neithan’s conscious and subconscious thoughts and what had emerged was this amalgamation of a variety of video game characters overlaid with a human filter that made the angel look both realistic and animated all at once, and distinctly airbrushed. It was familiar and comforting. This was the form he had taken ever since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with those two,” Neithan voiced his concern again. Ever since he had jumped in and found the lady-angel, Adina, murdering a man with a blade as long as his forearm, he just couldn’t shake the cold, homicidal picture he had formed of her in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel and Adina are in hiding, same as you and I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I get that, but why do we hang around with them? Adina is unhinged. I don’t care what you say, she killed that guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was unfortunate that Adina had to resort to violence, yes, but you do not understand the full circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whose fault is that? You’re the one keeping me in the dark. You said that we would be partners.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you not happy, Neithan? Do you not have everything that you’ve always wanted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan thought about the perfect world the angel had put together for him from so many pieces of his deepest wishes and fantasies. It was true. He had a world tailored to his every whim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humans can’t be completely happy without freedom, Lare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown on his face was unusual. It was rare that Neithan said something that gave the angel pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you are safe. Free, you may not be. And yet you would choose danger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having the choice is freedom. I’m not saying I would jump in front of a moving car just because I can. That has consequences. Pretty bad ones actually. But choosing what we want to do with our lives is a fundamental part of being human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound like Daniel. That is his argument for not returning to serve Heaven. He wishes to choose his own path. I need to think about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to shut me out again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel stared at him through glowing purple irises. “It is for your own good that you not be able to interact directly with the outside world. Adina trusts no one. You showing yourself at the wrong moment could jeopardize the tenuous trust she has in me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lare, seriously, you cannot drop bombs like that on me and then expect me to sit on my thumbs worrying about what’s going on! That is my body you’re running around in, risking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are perfectly safe. Any injuries your body sustains, I can heal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if you get killed? What happens to me then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing but silence came from the other side of the table, from the figure that sat completely immobile, like a statue. It was not comforting at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Lare. You gotta give me something. I have to know what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I give you your television back, would that be enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ, you sound like my dad. What am I grounded?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot give you more. The television so you can see, as you requested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if I have questions about what I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything you say, I can hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tell me this now? What the hell?! Are you saying that all that times I screamed myself hoarse, you heard everything? And you ignored me??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I can always hear you. I did not answer you because there was no answer that would assuage your fears and your anger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan tried to swallow his anger, not wanting to ruin his chance to know more about what was happening out in the real world by throwing a tantrum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we agree, that from now on, if I ask you a question, you give the answer? If I get angry or scared. That’s my deal alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not wish to cause you pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, guess what angel boy? It hurts to be in the dark too. So I’m choosing to know. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. Ask your questions, and I will answer when I can. I must return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel blipped out of existence, like someone had switched off a holo-projector and Neithan was alone in the coffee shop. He looked around, surrounded by people going about their lives, picking up coffees to go or delicate pastries to eat on their way to the office, or back home. He watched them and felt isolated. They were no more real than characters on a television screen. They were a part of the creation, drawn from his own mind. They did not exist out in the real world; at least not in the way they were here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan’s eyes landed on the barista who was cheerfully preparing a coffee - one of those fancy ones with three different syrups. As though she sensed him watching her, she glanced up and gave him a smile, like nothing could have made her happier than to have him looking at her right that minute. A pang of nostalgia took him and he found himself missing interacting with real people. The moment passed as he also remembered how awkward and difficult it had been out there. The only real conversations he had managed were through his computer screen, while playing online RPGs. Real people, in real life settings had been nothing but cruel to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling low, Neithan pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and returned to his room. True to his word, Alariel had returned the television to its spot and was even now broadcasting what was happening in the world as Alariel interacted with it. The room was in pristine order, like it always was, no matter what he left lying around. On the couch across from the screen, there was a headset with a microphone; one of the cushy noise cancelling ones he’d always wanted but couldn’t afford. With a sigh, he resigned himself to sitting on the couch and catching up on what was going on in Alariel’s world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like watching an amateur movie in first person perspective: a LOT of nothing going on between brief moments of activity. Alariel seemed to like looking at trees swaying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dumped me so you could pull a John Travolta, Phenomenon act?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just scan my memories. Some old-ass movie my mom likes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. I understand now. What I see in the trees and the wind is the traces of the divine on Earth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude. It’s just physics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of which was created by my father. As were humans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan didn’t respond. Alariel’s attention had shifted to the blonde woman that Neithan had last seen crouched over a body with a bloody knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must go. I will return later,” said the psycho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you not content to stay where it is safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Daniel is able to ponder the meaning of his existence while staring at a line dragging in the river,” Alariel’s attention shifted to where a completely ordinary looking man with short brown hair stood on a rock contentedly fishing in a fast running creek, “but I cannot. What deeper meaning is to be found in standing still?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is peace to be found. What deeper meaning do you seek out in the world beyond the protection of our wards? What out there is worth risking being found by those who seek us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me this Alariel, why does Daniel fish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He draws from his host’s memories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. How can we be truly free to make our own choices if all we do is behave like our vessels? That is not self-discovery. That is merely imitation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a start, Adina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is a trap. I for one will not be caught in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blond turned away and took off on foot to where the trees parted and revealed a packed-dirt road. Something beside it caught Neithan’s attention. There were symbols painted on the side of an old pick up truck. They looked like any number of rune-like symbols Neithan had come across in plenty of video games, but it was odd to see them out there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are those symbols, Lare?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The picture shifted, bringing the symbols front and centre as the angel explained. “They are wards, written in angelic sigils.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do they do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They hide our presence from other angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Kinda like Repello Muggletum in Harry Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a brief pause, while Alariel scanned his memories for the reference. “Yes, somewhat. Except it wouldn’t repel any angel from entering the area, it merely hides us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, can I ask you about what Adina just said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot stop you from asking questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan imagined Alariel sounded annoyed by this, even if he had his usual neutral voice. “When she talked about Daniel drawing from his host’s memories. Is that like what you and I do? Do all angels talk with the human in their head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The relationship with the vessel is personal to the angel. Many prefer to not interact with them at all, as we saw at the compound. I suppose it is possible that Daniel’s silences are signs of his communing with his host’s consciousness. More likely he is by passing direct communication and exploring his vessel's memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan let the images on the TV screen shift as he thought about this. The angels sounded like they were having mid-life crises to him. He was tempted to tell them to just buy red sports cars and get it over with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as Alariel approached Daniel by the river, his attention shifting from the water rushing along its course and the wind swaying in the trees. It was like watching a nature video without the annoying voice overs. He almost wished he could feel the wind and smell the pine sap. It reminded Neithan of when his parents had taken him on a camping trip to Carp Lake: nothing to do but lie on the ground and stare at nature stuff. Thank goodness for his PSP.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel turned his head to the side suddenly and Alariel’s gaze shifted back towards the road and the painted symbols on the side of the truck. Neithan frowned and strained his ear, but there was nothing. He grabbed the remote and pumped up the volume on the TV until he heard the faint rumble of an engine in the distance. Was someone coming up the road?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lare, get out of there!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no point in leaving. They will only track us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are they angels?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet. Neithan, I will need to focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan stopped talking as he scooted up to the edge of the sofa, watching the road as after a long moment a beige car appeared around the treeline and drew right up to the campsite. Neithan watched as two people stepped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit! Is that--?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, Neithan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan watched as the beige trenchcoat wearing Castiel approached with Hannah. He recognized both of them from his time as a part of the angel compound. Last he had seen them though, Hannah had turned her back on Castiel to defect to Metatron and led all the angels away from him. Were they back on good terms? Neithan had so many questions swirling around in his head. So much from that time was a blur, so many questions jumbled up in his mind, but now was not the time. He kept quiet, hoping to understand more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two newcomers drew up to where they stood on the rocks by the river. Daniel had gone back to focusing on his trailing fishing line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alariel.” Castiel nodded in greeting then turned towards Daniel. “What are you fishing for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trout, mostly. They do love a good curly-tailed grub. Trick is to find that special spot just outside the run where the big ones, the smart ones, are holding out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they put up much of a fight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel’s attention was shifting between the two newcomers, keeping them both in his sights, like he was watching them warily while they spoke to Daniel. The dark-haired Hannah had glanced at Alariel, but was mostly focused on the fisherman. Intensely focused. Did the woman ever blink?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ones who truly want to be free? They do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re here about our brother who died.” The two angels shifted their gazes to Alariel, giving Neithan major fourth wall break chills as he sat on his couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does this surprise you, Alariel?” Hannah asked coolly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can assure you, had he just left us alone,” said Daniel, drawing all eyes to him again, “no one would have been harmed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His orders were to not leave you alone. And you killed him,” said Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who gave him the order? What is it about us angels that we just can’t seem to get the message?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it is you, who has failed to get the message? All of us serve at Heaven’s command.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose. But that was before the fall, wasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are angels, once and forever.” She was starting to sound irritated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we?” asked Alariel. “What are angels if they are not the host of Heaven? What are angels without their wings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely, you do not think yourself a human,” she said with a sneer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Human? No. I would be a fool to think that we could ever be mistaken for them. Are we not now more like the many powerful creatures that roam the human world?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are no more than beasts seeking fulfilment and nourishment. And you would compare us to them? Our purpose, our mission is what differentiates us from the beasts. And you would forsake it. For what? A higher purpose, as the humans call it? What higher purpose can there be than serving Heaven?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A higher purpose suggests that there are options,” Daniel started again. “We fell without purpose and without choice, regardless of the mission. We fell into a land that, as it turns out, celebrates the free, the individual. For the first time in thousands of years, we have choices. And with each choice I make, I begin to discover who I really am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is nonsense.” Her lips curled back in disgust as a deep frown settled on her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they don’t teach this in Heaven? Perhaps they should. Then you would understand why it’s worth fighting for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s taunting us, Castiel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A glint of metal caught Neithan’s eye. “Shit! Blade! Lare!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Alariel or Daniel could make a move though, Castiel reached for her arm to hold her back. “Hannah, we did not come here to fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there is time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To hear more of this?” Again with her sneering. Neithan really didn’t like her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To convince them.” Castiel’s blue eyes shifted to Alariel a moment before releasing Hannah’s arm. “Besides, we haven’t seen Adina yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk on Daniel’s face as he spoke next did not reassure Neithan. “You’ll have to stay for sunset. Nighttime around here is a revelation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one spoke again for a long moment as they stared from one to another like some standoff in a movie. Who would blink first? Who would make a move? Finally, Hannah’s blade disappeared up her sleeve again. It did nothing to dissipate the tension though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alariel, why not gather some wood for a campfire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be alright by yourself?” he asked Daniel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No harm will come to Daniel, I promise.” This was from Castiel, whose blue eyes bore into Alariel’s straight through the screen in Neithan’s room. Why did angels have to be so intense about everything all the time?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan sat back and watched the screen as Alariel walked around the woods picking up kindling branches large enough to be considered logs and carted them back towards the circle of stones around a pile of ashes. The waiting around was killing him. Alariel set the wood down perfectly in the fire pit and made it ready to light, his work meticulous and slow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why this shit is cut out of movies. All the waiting between scenes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are free to return to the coffee shop for a drink or to your video games, Neithan, if this bores you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Lare. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he watched Alariel’s attention shift from fire to the river and back as the other angels walked over to join him, Neithan found his attention straying back to when he had first met Alariel. He had been up late, playing games on his computer when the lighting outside had turned a strange shade of orange, almost like the night sky had been set on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked out the window, he thought he saw something flashing across the sky. He rushed outside to see it more closely. What he found was fire raining down from a cloudless sky as far as the eye could see. His hair stood on end as he watched one in particular grow bigger and bigger, looking like it was heading right for his house. He thought right then that he would die, it was the end of everything. The fucking sky was falling on them. They were going the same way the dinosaurs went. He had thrown his arms to cover his face when the fiery ball had looked big enough to engulf the whole neighbourhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that darkness, a voice had reached out to him in distress. He was scared, and dying and needed Neithan’s help. In his moment of awe, he had said yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the feeling of Alariel entering his body, fusing his grace to his tissues. He could feel the raw power of the fallen angel as he drew on his soul. Then he blacked out. When he came to hours, days, weeks later, he couldn’t tell, all he could feel was the angel’s distress, his deep confusion and fear. This was their first interaction as Neithan tried to gather his senses and figure out where he was, trapped in complete darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the coffee shop was created. Then Alariel took shape and they talked. That conversation had become the foundation of their relationship: they were better when they worked together. It was together that they set out to search for other fallen angels, the ones Alariel said he could hear, a sort of species specific telepathy. Together they had joined a group they had found who were gathering. They were able to piece together what had happened, even if they were missing the details. Someone had ejected all the angels from their home and slammed the door shut behind them. And that someone’s name was on everyone’s lips: Castiel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan and Alariel had watched as the zeal for Castiel’s head grew, but so did the animosity between groupings of angels. Most angels Neithan met through Alariel were like him: lost, confused, searching for safety with their brothers and sisters. But some of them had decided that with no one in charge, they had to take charge. Malachi was nearly insane. Bartholemew didn’t care about the humans they hurt. The groupings grew, and then turned on each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel and Neithan managed to stay on the outskirts of the larger skirmishes. Neithan would try to comfort Alariel, who felt the loss of each of his brothers and sisters deeply. They decided that joining a faction would not keep them safe. They bounced around the country moving from one place to another, sometimes meeting up with groupings of angels, but moving on quickly. It was around that time that Alariel had started creating the world for Neithan: a place he could go to when he got bored or restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they moved around, one day Alariel heard the call. Like the sound of the divine calling him west. Neithan was skeptical that any good would come of joining a gathering of unknown angels, but he could not hold him back. When they had arrived in Utah, the call had stopped and Alariel could not pick it up again. They had waited around, hoping to hear it again. When they did a few days later, Alariel had rushed to get to it before it stopped again, but again, he didn’t make it in time. Another couple days passed and they heard it, this time within distance and they joined the growing group of angels as they converged in a motel parking lot, Castiel standing before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel had been a part of that group. So had Hannah and a dozen other angels, some who had seen first hand what answering the previous calls had done to their fellow angels. Castiel had preached non-violence. No more angels killing angels. A return to their mission in helping humanity. His following grew quickly and they moved to the compound from which they organised both the search for angels to bring them into the fold and the dispatch to local hospitals and shelters. Neithan helped Alariel with the former, showing him how to set up a basic tracking program which the angel then worked on with the unique focus of the angelic, making it 10,000 times more powerful and efficient than anything Neithan had ever seen. Alariel had barely needed him at that point and if it hadn’t been for the arrival of Delilah, he never would’ve left his gaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, weird shit started to happen again, and Neithan’s games started to glitch and when he tuned back in, it was to discover that the world had gone to Hell in a handbasket. The angels followed Hannah out. Delilah had almost convinced Alariel to follow them back to Heaven but Daniel had noticed him staying behind and he waited for him. He and Adina didn’t feel right about the defection, nor did they think returning to Heaven was the answer. They had gotten a taste for Earth and they didn’t want to go back just yet. So Alariel had defied the calling to return to Heaven and had joined them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the clearing, sitting around a crackling fire, the light had dimmed on the television; the sun had set beyond the treetops, colouring the sky in shades of dark blue and green. The stars were coming out and although Hannah’s focus continued to be latched onto Daniel, Castiel’s eyes were turned to the firmament in quiet wonder. Neithan watched him for a bit, finding that the once fearless and imposing leader was looking a little tired and dishevelled. Even the reddish light from the campfire couldn’t hide that his skin was pallid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with Castiel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The grace that he is using to power himself is failing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. ‘Cause he stole it right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Grace taken from another angel does not regenerate like the Grace proper to us. As he uses it, it depletes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what happens when it’s gone? No more angel powers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without more Grace, he will die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit. Sucks for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though he could sense the conversation going on behind Neithan’s mud brown eyes, Castiel turned his focus away from the sky and looked right at him. Daniel drew all eyes again though when he started talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What I’ll never understand is why angels won’t acknowledge the wisdom to be found down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What wisdom is to be gained from humans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Neithan reacted, unheard from his own mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not speaking to you.” Daniel’s usually soft and calm voice had a harsh edge to it when he addressed Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you understand what he’s--” Hannah cut herself off as Castiel inclined his head with an apologetic smile. “Fine. But if you are to be free, that is to be decided by all angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why must it be all or nothing? If some want to rejoin Heaven, while others do not, why can we not choose for ourselves?” Alariel asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s that angelic irony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is a lot about the situation that you do not understand,” said Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan noticed Adina walking into the circle of firelight bare seconds before she spoke, a flash of metal gleamed in her hand. “We’re not going back there. Not ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stow the blade, please, Adina. Castiel and Hannah are just here to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless of Daniel’s calm words, Neithan could feel himself grow tense watching the scene unravel</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When she stows hers,” she answered through gritted teeth, her eyes on Hannah and the blade she had gripped in her hand again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of there, Lare! This is gonna turn into a bloodbath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patience, Neithan. If we run now, there will be no salvaging this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you insane? Get away before something happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, what are you doing?” asked Castiel, turning towards her as she stood up from her chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you see, Daniel? We’ll never get a chance to argue our freedom. All that awaits us is the inside of a prison cell!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have thought about that before slaughtering one of your own!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel raised his hands, his voice taking on an edge of urgency. “No! No, no we were talking. We were getting somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel stood up too, and the tension was nearly palpable through the television screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everybody needs to calm down,” Castiel tried to reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to be free?” Hannah said, squaring off with Adina. “Go ahead. Be free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adina swung her fist at Hannah’s face and the fight began. Castiel tried in vain to call Hannah’s name, to stop them, but she clearly wasn’t listening anymore as she slashed at Adina. Alariel was the furthest from the fight and he took a step towards them, but Daniel held out his hand, gesturing to him to stay back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alariel, it will not solve anything for you to get involved here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel,” Alariel pleaded, as he turned his attention back and forth between the fighting angels and Daniel who had drawn his own blade. “Daniel, you and I are not fighters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan watched the shaking picture on the screen as Alariel turned back to the fight where Adina had managed to slice Hannah’s arm and knock her to the ground. He could barely keep up as Alariel rushed forward with Daniel to stop the winning Adina from plunging her blade into her prone target. Hannah was quicker though and she drew her blade and sliced up Adina across her chest, pure white light shining out through the cut tissue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” screamed Daniel as she fell back to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel rushed to crouch over Adina, scanning her injury while Daniel took up position between them and Hannah who had gotten back to her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel turned his attention back to the angels when he heard Castiel. “Daniel, stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel, brother!” pleaded Alariel. “She will be alright. Stop this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was with horror and a complete inability to do anything to stop the impending catastrophe, that Neithan watched as Daniel raised his blade regardless of Alariel’s words and took a step towards Hannah. She was clutching her injured arm, unable to lift her own blade. Daniel brought the blade down, as though to impale it in the injured angel’s heart, but before he could close the distance, Castiel stepped out from where he had taken position and his blade disappeared in Daniel’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scream of agony as Daniel burst into bright white light, spilling from his injury but also his eyes and mouth was equaled by Adina’s tortured cry of loss and fear. Castiel turned towards them and for a moment Neithan was sure that he and Alariel would be next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get up, Lare! Get up and get the fuck out of there now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the angel did not move. And Neithan could not make him. Wait. Of course he could. This was his fucking body. This room was just a part of his mind. He closed his eyes and forced his will into his limbs and maybe because Alariel was so stunned by the events, he let him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adina,” was all the angel said as Neithan tucked his legs under him like he was just controlling another one of his gaming avatars. And with a whispered “Damn it!” he grabbed the angel by one of her arms and dragged her to her feet. Together they ran: away from the fight, away from the body of the dead angel, and most of all for Neithan, away from the dead vessel. He had gotten a glimpse of the smoking eyes and lifeless body and now he knew that this was what awaited him if Alariel was killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Delilah plugged the power cable into one of the outlets at the base of the world table. She wiped her hands on her jeans as she straightened up, flipping an errant clump of hair out of the way and back behind her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright you beast, let’s see what happens when we turn you on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at the small, nondescript computer box and marvelled that small as it was, it could do anything even remotely close to detecting and locating angelic energy signatures. When all that appeared on the screen she had connected to it were lines of green symbols and seemingly random letters, she dropped herself into the chair she had pulled out and rested her chin in her palm, her elbow on the chair arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figures it would be encrypted. Who would’ve thought angels would even think about that kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah stared blankly at the computer that she had picked up in Omaha. She had remembered Castiel’s angel compound as she drove down from Sioux Falls and decided to take a detour to see if she could find anything useful that had been left behind. No such luck though. What she found in the old warehouse wasn’t even the leftovers from the angel exodus. The place looked like someone had swept it and removed all the papers and notes, posters and dry erase boards that could have given her a clue about how to track an angel. That was what they had been doing after all, all those weeks. Castiel’s followers had set up a search, rescue and dispatch for wayward brothers and sisters so they could bring them back to the mothership under the banner of non-violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the computers the angels had used were still in their places, and that’s what Delilah had brought back with her to the bunker: Neithan’s computer, the one he had used to set up his custom search algorithm. And there it sat, useless because she couldn’t understand the encryption.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah leaned back in the chair and stared at the concrete underside of the mezzanine above her, the iron staircase curving gently down into the room behind her, and felt nothing. She had been surprised as she walked down into the bunker hallway from the garage that she had only hesitated for a moment. Her breath had hardly hitched and her mind had not really dwelled on what had happened there just barely a couple weeks before. The bunker had welcomed her back with bright light, warmth, the smell on concrete and wood, and that indescribable quality of the air that told her she was alone in the big underground compound. If she was being honest with herself, she had half expected some form of panic attack, like the ones that pulled her out of her nightmares, but there was just that familiarity, and mild sense of well-being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked at the computer again and the frustrating symbols on the screen: the cursor line just flashing like it was waiting for some command to be typed in and finish its booting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Sam Winchester’s big brain when you need it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned her head to the right where the elevated, rich wooden floors of the library beckoned her with the promise of hours of sitting on the hard surface browsing volume after volume of dusty, antique literature about all things arcane and some things angelic. A deep sense of familiarity and contentment filled her. If it weren’t for the crushing sense of urgency that had pushed her out of the house and back on the road, she thought she might actually feel happy. Her eyes strayed to the tables lined up down the center of the room and the moment evaporated, snuffed like a candle between two fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better get to it then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she had left Sioux Falls, Jody had started her search through the police database for kids who had gone missing in May of the previous year, around the time of the world wide meteor shower, or the fall of the angels depending on your sources. Delilah had told her everything she could about Neithan including a physical description, but without any way to narrow the search, Jody expected the search to take time. Delilah had been too restless to wait around once she had made her decision to go look for Neithan. One quick search on the internet - keyword “miracles” - and Delilah understood that she would need slightly more sophisticated search parameters if she had any hope of actually finding Neithan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood in front of the index card cabinet beside the doorway inside the library and bent her head to the task, sifting through key words and cross-referencing information to start narrowing down her search.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah rubbed at her dry eyes fighting her heavy eyelids as she read through what had been a promising chapter on angels. The latin was giving her a headache though, and after a few pages, it was clear that this was another text written less about actual angels and more about what people assumed were angelic influence on Earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the last eighteen hours she had downed three pots of coffee and read through volume after volume of material, barely filling half a page of notes that could actually be considered useful. Maybe. Most of what she had learned had come from epic poems and foreign folklore which could be just as much about angels as any creature with similar powers. She couldn’t help but think that no matter what the ancient lore was telling her about angels and their behaviour on Earth in the middle ages, what she was dealing with now was very different. Angels had changed. Gone were the days of angelic wrath for God’s bidding, and even the more subtle acts of healing and help could not be taken into account. Since the fall, angels had been on the run from each other, hiding in human vessels and definitely living low-key lives. The ones that hadn’t, had been the first to shed their vessel’s blood in the fight between factions. She could not believe that she would find anything useful in these dusty pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a ligament popping stretch and a groan, Delilah stood away from the back table, glancing passively at the large telescope in its alcove like it was just artwork on a wall. She reached down to grab her phone and glanced at the screen. It was already mid morning. She had spent the night searching through the books. She couldn’t say she was sleepy but she certainly was tired of her fruitless research. A good hot shower might help clear the hamster wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah left the books on the table and headed out through the back door and into the back hallway of the bunker. For a moment it seemed as though the lights flashed red as she passed the closed door that would lead her back up towards the kitchen and the nagging thought that someone was waiting behind that door grabbed hold of her reptilian brain and set her heart rate skipping and racing. Fighting the sudden, illogical need to run as far away from that door as possible, she grabbed the handle, turned it and shoved it open. She nearly toppled to the ground as she lost her balance momentarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked around slowly, forcing her breathing back to normal as she chastised her own mind for overreacting. Something on the floor caught her attention and she bent down to pick up her shoes, left behind that night when she had used them to lure--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah slammed the lid down hard on the stray thoughts as they surged and swelled in her consciousness. She refused to let them take over. With a teeth grinding squeeze of her jaw, she turned away from the open door and headed straight into the shower room, drowning any other unpleasant memory that might try to surface by opening her music app on her phone and blasting Blue Oÿster Cult at maximum volume.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah let the hot water wash over her, soaking into her hair and loosening the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. She could feel the humid heat wrapping itself around her as the steam built up in the open room. Slowly, her body began to relax in places she hadn’t even realized were tense and her muscles and bones turned to jelly, barely holding her up. When the dizziness started, she decided that was enough and she turned the tap off. Without the cascading water, the cold started creeping into the room, pushing back the steam and she quickly grabbed a towel and started drying off. She wrapped one around her hair and then tucked the other around her body and made her way back to her room, holding her balled up clothing loosely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had meant the shower to wake her up so she could get back to her books, but with every step she took, her body became heavier and by the time she reached her room, she was fighting a losing battle with her eyelids. So she pulled back the sheets from the mattress and she let herself sink into it as she gave in completely to oblivion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She woke up naked, tangled in her sheets and clawing at her throat as she tried to breathe past the suffocation. Even after she managed to get the light beside the bed switched on, banishing the darkness to its corners, it took her a moment before she could draw full breaths again. When everything finally steadied, leaving only her heart feeling like it would break through her ribs with its slow pumping, she let herself fall back onto her pillows with a shaky sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for her phone and was only slightly surprised to find that she had slept through the day: it was going on 6PM. Regardless of nearly a full 8 hours of sleep. Delilah could feel the weariness pulling at her. She wanted nothing more than to roll over, snuggle down and sleep another twelve, but she could feel her brain waking up and she knew she was already past the point of being able to just roll back over into a deep sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the slow, dull throb of arousal and gave her clit a quick rub, releasing what sexual tension had built up but leaving her craving more. She rolled out of bed and made for the dresser pulling out clothes she had not seen in a long time. She settled on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a thin grey knit that she put on over a black tank top. The floor was cold, so she put on some socks and jammed her feet into her Docs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ruble in her empty belly pulled her towards the kitchen, but opening the fridge door revealed nothing edible. The boys had been on a road trip for a few weeks now and whatever they had left in there before leaving looked about ready to get up and start making its way in the world. She considered making herself some more coffee, but thought about the battery acid already churning in her gut and decided against it. Restless, distracted and dreading the thought of sitting down for another bout of fruitless research, Delilah wandered up into the war room and stared at the still blinking cursor on the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence was heavy in the bunker, that previously comforting feeling of being alone now creeping in on her and making her skin crawl. She reached for her phone in her back pocket and tapped the top contact in her recent calls list. Bringing the phone to her ear, it cycled through a couple rings before someone finally picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Sam,” she breathed into the phone after his own cheerful “Hey!” “How’s the hunt going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We just got here. Just left the sheriff’s station.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FBI swooped in to save the day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Actually no. We got to pull the old game warden uniforms out of the mothballs for this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Game warden! What’s that look like? Khaki button down tucked into a tight pair of jeans? Sign me up for that calendar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The shirt is dark green. You’re in a good mood. Jody’s got you doing chores?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ssshh, I’m busy picturing the tight jeans you failed to deny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmmm, those loooong legs just keep on going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delilah. Focus. Did you seriously just call me for that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! It’s got entertainment value, buddy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, well I’m busy, so if you don’t mind, I got a werewolf to catch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry Sam. I actually do need to pick your brain. If you have a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no answer on the other end of the line, although from the distant sound of muffled speech, she guessed he had put his hand over the mouthpiece while he spoke to someone else. He was back quickly though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got a bit of time, but not much. What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiar sound of the squeak and slam of the Impala’s door told her that the guys were headed to their next stop on their hunt. Sam had mentioned a werewolf, she really didn’t want to distract them too long. She stared at the blinking cursor again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, we’re in Washington, a couple hours outside Seattle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah felt the disappointment chase out the hope that he would be close enough to come help her with her angel’s computer. “Right.” she sighed into the phone as she wondered what her next step would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need help with something? Is Jody OK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, everything’s fine, Sam. I’m actually in Lebanon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I needed to look through the library, but it gave me nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking for ways to find an angel. Did you and Castiel ever find anything back when you were looking for Gadreel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hunting an angel?” Sam’s surprise was obvious in his voice, and from the sudden sound of talking coming from the background, she figured Dean was getting his two cents in about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would everyone calm down? I’m not hunting angels. I’m looking for Neithan.” She gave him a quick run down of the last few weeks and her growing concern for the boy the angel had teamed up with. It was surprisingly short to tell, and she realized that she really did not have that much to go on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t do things half-assed do you? When you told me you were thinking of hunting again, I thought you were talking about beginner level stuff, like ghosts maybe, but you want to go after angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to help a friend. Angels are just the price of admission. Besides, there is no such thing as beginner level hunting; it is all sink or swim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. And I get it. I really do. If you need us to help out, give us a couple days to wrap this up and we’ll meet you at the bunker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah thought about having Sam come home and help her with the hunt and she felt calm, but then she realized who “us” meant, and it was like a punch to the gut. She drew a quick breath and tried to shrug it off, but the discomfort lingered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah. A couple days should be fine. I still have plenty of material to look through, I doubt I’ll be done by the time you’re back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, sit tight. I’ll call you when we’re on our way back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be safe, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah hit the end button and found herself leaning forward against the world table. She put down her cell phone, only to realize her hand was shaking slightly. She squeezed her fist tightly trying to regain control of her body even as she felt the mild tremors moving through her and clenching around her ribs. That old, familiar itch in her legs was back, making her feel like a caged animal. She had to get out. She had to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed her jean jacket from where she had hung it behind one of the chairs the day before, making sure her wallet was in the inside pocket. She reached into her duffel bag, discarded the day before by the table, and grabbed her gun, checking the clip of devil’s trap bullets quickly before clipping her holster to the back of her belt. She tucked a small silver knife inside her boot and headed up the stairs and out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a peacefulness to the early evening air; the lingering day’s warmth only starting to fade with the sun nearing the horizon but still visible. Summer was coming and the Kansas fields would be full of sprouts around her old town. She could remember the corn stalks when she was just a kid and playing with her friends in one of the fields behind someone’s house. Later, when she had moved just outside of Topeka, the fields were there again, part of the scenery. The wheat fields were her favourite. When the wind picked up and made the delicate tan stalks weave and bob like lazy waves reaching the shore, it made her think of thousands of dancing sprites celebrating in the sunshine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah shook her head at her distracted memories, a smile playing on her lips for a moment as the wind picked up and played with strands of her long hair. The only sound on the deserted bunker road was that of her boots slapping the cracked pavement, and the distant whirr of cars on the interstate. It was a good hour’s walk to get into town, but the sun was still lighting the sky when she reached its only watering hole. It was a rundown and tired looking building with fading paint on the sign. It was the kind of place only a local would know about, with hardly any identifying features on the outside. The inside could be considered by some to be just as ramshackle and faded as the outside, but it was warm and poorly lit and you could overlook the cracked vinyl benches and stools and the cracked tile in the bathroom, because the food was served hot and the drinks were affordable and the atmosphere was perfect to drown your sorrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled open the door and made her way directly to the bar where she was met with a familiar face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith! I woulda thought you’d have hightailed it out of town by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Funny you should say that, ‘cause I pretty much figured that’s what you’d done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, even tumbleweeds have to stop sometimes. Might as well make it someplace familiar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your usual, ma’am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shush! Make me feel old. Throw on a basket of chicken wings while you’re at it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whiskey and wings coming right up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith turned away and disappeared into the bar’s back room which was equipped with just the minimum needed to keep the patrons happy with wings, nachos and fries. Delilah glanced around and watched the Saturday night crowd as they cavorted around the pool tables, chatted loudly in the booths, or cheered and groaned as they aimed darts at the target on the wall. The crowd was only slightly younger than the more regular drinkers that frequented the place, but not by much. Lebanon’s youth didn’t tend to stick around, except those who worked the farmland.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith came back with her order and Delilah bit into her food hungrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what brings you back to town?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know. Can’t seem to stay away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Home’s like that. The more you try to get away, the more you end up coming right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home. Delilah pondered that for a moment, “I haven’t had a true home since I was a little girl, Keith. That kind of thing is fit for fairy tales and daydreams. There’s no such thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have one of those either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith paused, his face stilling while his brown eyes looked into hers, searching for something that he must not have found because he blinked and looked away. “I can tell that you honestly believe that. I can only hope you’re wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away, but brought back the bottle of Jack Daniel’s to refill her glass. Then, he was called away by the waitress who needed his help with an order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to shake the strange weariness that the bar top conversation had induced. Could she possibly be that much of an open book, that a near stranger could just glance into her soul and know her? She chuckled and knocked back her whiskey, the whole thing making her shake her head. Barroom confessions and therapy sessions. Might as well be parlour tricks and smoke and mirrors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evening was uneventful, and Delilah soaked in every minute of it, revelling in being surrounded by people who did not know her story and simply accepted her presence as someone who sometimes came through town and stopped in for a drink. She drifted to and from the jukebox, played a few rounds of pool with some of the old timers, and took a few bucks off the kids who had gotten a little too cocky burying darts in the walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was going on half past one when she decided to head back to the bunker, accompanied by the sounds of the night critters chirping amongst the trees or scuffling in the undergrowth along the road back out of town. The bunker was still and empty as it had been before her foray out to town and she took a moment, standing at the mezzanine’s railing, to prod curiously at the numbness that wrapped her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s words about home and family came back to her also and she looked around, knowing that she had once associated those words to this place, and to the Winchesters. But so much had happened, much of it right here, and it all felt tainted somehow; the fairy tale had turned back into the nightmares she had learned to associate with the concepts of home and family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah made her way down the steps and straight into the library where she poured herself another drink from the decanter and knocked it back letting the liquid fire scorch its way down her throat and welcoming the numbness that followed. She poured herself another and brought it back to the far table where the books and her current research awaited her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They had been running for days. Not daring to stop anywhere they might be seen, by fellow angels or by the trappings of human tracking. Their angel grace kept them from feeling tired or hungry. They didn’t need to sleep or rest tired muscles. Once the initial panic had worn off, Alariel had taken over once more and he used his grace to heal the wounded Adina. But there had been no time to really stop, and the angels kept going. Where they were going was less important than the way they chose to get there. They would go in one direction for a day, only to double back and hop in a car to hitch a ride north or south. If someone had tracked their progress on a map, it would have looked like two bees pollinating flowers in an unsteady, undefined jagged line that followed no recognizable pattern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were angels fleeing for their lives; fleeing from their brethren.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it had abated significantly, Neithan could feel Alariel’s panic like a background humming in his mind; a strange, irregular tattoo of distant drums. Neithan could not rest either, he found himself pacing back and forth in his room, the view outside his windows a shapeless white fog that pressed up against the outside of the glass concealing the nothing on the other side of it. Neithan’s perfect world was crumbling, and after what had happened, he was in no mood to throw himself back into such complete oblivion. The angels had fucked everything up. Daniel, Adina, Castiel, Hannah… all of those fuckers. Neithan wished the world would disappear again, leaving him to his fantasy worlds, but life had caught up to him in a fantastically terrible way, and it was time to deal with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go back. I’m going to kill them both for what they did to Daniel!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adina, think for a moment, what would killing them do other than bring down the full fury of Heaven on our heads?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan turned towards the television. The angels seemed to have stopped running for the moment. It was dark all around them, but Alariel’s vision pierced through the darkness so he could clearly see a multitude of details that normally would have been lost to the lack of light. Somehow they had found themselves on the shore of a vast body of water, an outcropping of rocky embankment broke the endless horizon, the water rolling to its base and breaking against it like distant thunder. Had they made it to the ocean? The sky was as endless as the water, the moon a thin sliver surrounded by the gently scintillating specks of the Milky Way reflecting on the distant peaks of the rolling waves. Neithan had never seen anything so beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I seek revenge for Daniel. He was innocent in this! Murdered for the crime of wanting to live life his way. The punishment outweighed the crime Alariel, and I want blood to spill for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adina, listen to yourself! Angels are not our enemies. You speak of killing our brothers and sisters. We are not meant to slay each other. If the violence doesn’t end, we will be facing extinction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coward. You may have been a lowly clerk in Heaven, but I am a Seraph and I have fought Heaven’s battles and smelled the smoking remains of entire cities as Father’s wrath came down upon them. I know what is just, and I seek justice for Daniel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The days of angel wars are over, sister. When was the last time Father ordered a people destroyed? Millenia. Our mission changed long ago: we are to protect humans from the influences of evil, from the Fallen One. We watch over their souls so they can enter the Kingdom upon their shaking of their mortal coil. We cannot give in to selfishness and dark temptation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good little Alariel. Look around you, brother! We have lost. We are banished! Father does not deign to rescue us, even as we fell prey to the evil machinations of Metatron. When Lucifer rebelled, he cast him down to Hell. Where is God now to banish Metatron? Nowhere. He has abandoned us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the truth! Open your eyes. This is it for us. Banished to walk amongst the lowly creatures of this plane when once we were of the heavens. If it was Father’s will to bring us here, what for if not to be as the humans who slaughter each other in His name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we are here in order to help elevate the humans to be worthy of Heaven. Demons have been coming up from Hell, maybe we are here to fight their influence face-to-face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are banished. By the corruption of Metatron, not Father’s will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that Metatron, who served as Father’s scribe for years, hasn’t acted on His behalf? Following His will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adina fell silent and turned away to face the ocean. Her posture was stiff, her arms crossed over her chest as Neithan watched the screen holding his breath for fear of missing anything. He was probably the only human alive to have ever witnessed such an exchange. He had been raised a Christian, and for the most part had accepted the existence of a Higher Power, but after spending so much time immersed in the angelic,  he could not help but feel what an insignificant little thing he was in a world where angels and demons walked the same ground he did, wielding powers akin to magical beings in his fantasy worlds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan sat back on the couch, his whole body feeling like jelly as he tried to wrap his head around everything. He had assumed the angels had a deeper connection to God.  To find out that they struggled in his absence with their faith in his will, resonated deeply with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adina,” Alariel spoke softly as he stepped up behind her and lay his hands on her shoulders, “These feelings of wrath, they are not your own. Probe for their origin and you will see for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earth is changing me. Has given me new insight. Daniel spoke of the humans’ free will. I yearn for the same. I feel it in my very being, just as I feel the anger at being forced to relinquish this freedom. I will die before I return to Heaven’s suffocating rule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan startled as Alariel laughed, the emotion starting as a bubbling in his chest and bursting out through his mouth. But what had startled him, wasn’t the oddness of the sound in the current circumstances, but the strange quaking in his own chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dare laugh at me brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adina, can’t you see? My glee, your anger, they are one and the same and neither are our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you saying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These emotions are born of our vessels. In tapping into their souls, we are experiencing their feelings, their memories. Daniel’s fishing, your desire for freedom, my self-doubt… all of it is a result of fusing our grace to their flesh. Nothing more.” Alariel moved to stand in front of Adina, and Neithan found himself staring into the almost clear eyes of the angel, her face taking up nearly all the space on the screen. “You must not let your vessel’s desires rule you. Distance yourself from them before they take over completely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, it looked like Alariel had finally convinced Adina; her eyes had widened in wonder as she stared back at him and straight through the television. What was she seeing? Was she staring at Neithan’s own too stretched features, or could she only see her angel brother within the vessel? Neithan had never been taken seriously by anyone in his entire life. His parents, kids at school, no one ever really gave him the time of day, or cared to listen to him as he spoke of his passions and interests. It was odd to see Adina now staring into his face and actually considering what he was saying… what Alariel was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. That may be true for you, but my anger is righteous, and it is my own. Hannah and Castiel must pay for what they did as will any angel who stands in my way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sister, please--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough! If you will not help me, then this is where we part ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not the way. This will destroy you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan felt the cold press of something against the soft skin of his belly and as Alariel looked down, Neithan realised that what he felt was Adina’s blade. Neithan felt himself fill with fear as he remembered what those blades could do to otherwise immortal angels, and their vessels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lare, let her go, man. She’s going to kill us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adina’s face on the screen shrank and more of the shoreline was visible, with its large New England white clad houses atop the escarpments overlooking the ocean. He watched her lower her weapon but the fear lingered in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel said nothing as he watched her walk away until she was no longer there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do now?” Neithan asked the empty room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me be, Neithan. I need time to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The television screen went blank, and Neithan had the distinct impression that if he tried to speak to Alariel again, he would not answer him. Alone in his room, Neithan sat with his own thoughts, wondering what would come next. Outside his window, the fog dissipated and he could see again the shoreline and the ocean stretching out to kiss the starry sky in the distance. He had never seen the ocean before, and certainly had never walked the shore. Neithan moved towards the window, knowing that this time, he would be able to step through it and out onto the sand, because Alariel wanted him distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought only bothered him a little, and then not at all as his bare toes sank into the soft sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The shrill sound of her phone’s ringtone pulled Delilah away from yet another dusty tome filled with even less helpful information than the five before it. She reached for the welcome distraction, rubbing the grit out of her tired eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Lo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning! Didja get any sleep last night or you still burning the midnight oil?” Jody’s voice was a welcome sound in the emptiness of the bunker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I slept.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When and for how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At some point, and for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have anyone to corroborate your story, missy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sheriff, are you asking me if I brought a stranger to the Winchester-super-secret-lair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! That would be butting in, and I don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah snorted, a smile on her face as she turned the page in her book, only half reading what was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I think I got a hit on your missing kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly alert, Delilah sat up straighter in her chair, pushing the book away. “What’d you find?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a pretty broad search, with only a few things to go on. Searching the state databases one by one is a real bitch. So I searched for teens who went missing May 2013, give or take a month. Adding in gender and key physical characteristics, and I was able to narrow it down a lot. I wasn’t sure about using the name you gave me in case it turned out to be an alias, but I think—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jody! You’re killing me, here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sending you the file right now. There’s a picture. If he’s the kid you’re looking for...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled the phone away from her ear and switched it to speaker before opening the new email from Jody’s work address. It was a tense moment for her while she waited for the file to load, but as soon as she opened it, she was met by a familiar pair of bespectacled golden brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s him, Jody! Oh my God, you’re a genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neithan Shaw, from Fenton, Michigan—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michigan,” Delilah repeated with a groan thinking about the long drive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He went missing just after the meteor shower a year ago. Hasn’t been seen since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah scrolled through the information in the file quickly while Jody painted the broad strokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I put a call in at the Fenton PD to see if I could get anything more since that file is so anorexic. The chief seems sympathetic enough, but he didn’t have much to say on the case. Gave me the name of the detective in charge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna need that name too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured as much. I told him to be expecting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you did what? Who did you say was coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“PI that sometimes helps me out around here. Lookin’ to help reunite a family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And they bought that? Why would a PI from South Dakota give a shit about a kid in Michigan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! But you have a long car ride to figure that out now don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s mind was racing and she hardly noticed as she stood up from the table and started walking towards the back of the library.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Delilah, did I lose ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, sorry Jody. I was thinking. Thanks for the good work. This gives me somewhere to start looking for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how looking into the kid is going to help you find the angel that’s possessing him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure either, but I’m definitely not going to find him sitting around on my ass here reading outdated lore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the Winchesters can’t help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re on a case out west. Won’t be back for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God knows I can’t stop you from going out on your own, but please, be careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. Thanks again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah rushed to her room and repacked her bag with fresh clothes for the road, gathering her weapons and her tablet, everything she would need. She was thankful Jody had already established a cover for her. With hardly a backwards glance, or a thought for the mess she was leaving behind in the library and on the war room table, Delilah sank into the bucket seat of her Demon and drove out of the bunker garage and back out onto the road.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah walked into the Fenton police station feeling refreshed after her quick shower at the motel. She had eaten just before she had reached Detroit so she was ready for whatever this investigation was going to throw at her. She had decided that should anyone in Fenton ask, she was Delilah Rose, a PI from South Dakota who was a friend of the missing kid’s cousin. They had called her to see if she could come help out. Obviously, she wouldn’t be able to use that particular cover with the family itself, but they didn’t need to know she was from out of town either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was itching to get started now that she had a place to look, and she was relieved to be in an unfamiliar place with no painful memories to stalk her around the corners. But as she walked through the doors and up to the greeting desk, she realized that she might not get too far on a Sunday evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m Delilah Rose. I’m supposed to be meeting with Detective Lang? About a missing kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” the unformed officer, nametag Bradley, told her, “I don’t think Freddy’s in tonight. Did you have an appointment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just hopeful I guess. I’m from out of town, the sheriff from my neck of the woods spoke to the chief to let you know I was coming. I just got in actually, but couldn’t sit still. Just itching to get going on this case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don’t know if anyone can help you tonight, Ms. Rose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just looking to get a head start. Get me up to speed before I meet with Lang. I’m sure someone can help me out. I need to have a look at the Shaw file. Missing kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but protocol is what it is. Lang can get you that file if you come back tomorrow, and I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to go over it with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Officer Bradley--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant. Ms. Rose, please, I don’t know how things work from wherever the woods are back home, but here, you’re a private citizen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a private investigator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m sure that means you have a license for that concealed weapon under your jacket, which is the only reason I haven’t given you a warning. But beyond that, you’ll need to speak to Lang. Lucky for you, he’s usually in bright and early, so if you come back around 7AM, you can have this conversation again with Joanie who handles the front desk during the week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah stood still, keeping her hard ass face on while she tried to come up with a way around Officer Lieutenant PrickHead, but he kept his steady eyes on hers and all she could hear was the high pitch whistling drowning out her thoughts. Her head began to pound from somewhere in her neck, probably from driving for too long, and she ground her teeth knowing that it would only get worse. Finally, she raised her hands in defeat, figuring she might be better off just coming back in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to know a good spot for a drink around here, Lieutenant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Favourite watering hole can be found just up the street from here.” He rummaged in one of the drawers of the desk and Delilah waited as he pulled out a small laminated card. Delilah looked at it and was surprised to find that it was for a local cab company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back at him and he had a slight grin on his previously stern face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To get you back to whichever of our fine sleeping establishments you happen to be laying your head at afterwards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah gave him her best smile and thanked him, all the while mentally calling him every sort of name she knew that even remotely resembled condescending prick. She walked back out of the station keeping her outer composure cool, but inside, she was on fire. It wasn’t so much the Lieutenant’s words that had thrown her, but the lack of something to think about. The search was on hold until the morning; the file Jody had sent her not even giving her a name or number where she could reach Neithan’s parents. Until she could talk with Detective Lang, there was nothing she could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head gave another warning throb and she pinched the bridge of her nose as she walked back to her car. She headed back up the road until the streetlamp-lit neighbourhood gave way to the still bright windows of restaurants and sports bars amid the darkened commercial buildings. She scanned the potential places keeping a lookout for familiar signs of a more run down and less crowded spot to drown her budding headache. She glanced down a side street and spotted the flickering neon sign depicting a pool table, a line of choppers lined up neatly by the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah drove on to the next intersection, then doubled back using the nearby side streets. She parked a block down from the bar. She left her gun in the glove compartment, figuring it would just attract unwanted attention, but she made sure her silver knife was tucked in her boot, just in case. The heavy music drifting out through the thick door was a welcome relief to the mental static that had been building with her headache and she looked forward to an evening of peace surrounded by rambunctious life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sun filtered in through the thin fabric of the motel curtains and painted the inside of Delilah’s eyelids red. She groaned as she rolled onto her side away from the window The ache in her neck was telling her she had probably fallen asleep on her stomach. Her mouth felt pasty as she tried to swallow glue-like spit. The shuffle of feet on the cheap carpeting made her open her eyes with a wince, looking up at the heavily tattooed arm holding out a glass of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat up on the lumpy mattress, the sheets pooling in her naked lap as she took it with a thanks. She looked around and quickly spotted her clothes duffel and messenger bag. So they had come back to her place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still here,” she said, trying not to sound accusatory, but really, why would he have stayed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just woke up. I figured I’d see if you were interested in breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have things to do. I’ll probably grab a shit ass coffee from the Dunkin’ Donuts next door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I’ll just head back home to the wife and rugrats, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked away dismissively and swallowed the contents of the glass, wishing the water had been ice cold, but it was room temperature; most likely tap water, judging from the taste of iron in the back of her throat. She got up from the bed and walked past the tall, broad shouldered man, straight into the bathroom. She didn’t bother closing the door when she heard the room door click shut behind her previous night’s distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked in the medicine cabinet style mirror above the sink and probed at her memories. She ran through the previous night’s events, counting the fingers of whiskey she had bought and then the shots and pitchers of beer the men at the pool table had bought her while she hustled a couple thousand bucks off of them collectively. They had taken the whole thing in stride, matching her bets not out of hustled ignorance or some macho bullshit pride, but out of respect for a legitimate challenge. It had been fun, she realized, as she remembered laughing along in camaraderie. When the bar had announced last call, she had stumbled out onto the sidewalk and almost regretted crumpling up the cab company’s card. Then, one of the younger bucks in the group saw her as she contemplated walking the unknown distance to the motel and offered her a ride back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her resistance had been lowered by giddy good times, alcohol, and the low-key charm and bad boy aura that had been coming off him all evening in undeniable waves. She wasn’t the only one who had noticed his Sons of Anarchy vibe - thick, dull metal jewelry, tattoos and leather vest, full beard and below the ears hair length - a couple other women apart from the group kept glancing his way. So, even though she had spotted the shiny gold wedding band on his left hand, she hadn’t cared. He had pulled up to the motel and she had pulled him into her bed without hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was satisfied, as she brushed out the stale taste of alcohol, that she had full recollection of the evening. She also remembered she had a standing appointment with Detective Lang, and it was already after bright and early. She hurried through a shower, then tied her long hair back in a messy bun before reapplying the makeup she had just removed. She threw on another semi-casual, jean, shirt and jacket combo and stuffed the pockets with her basic tools of the trade: mini flashlight, lockpick set she’d not had a chance to use yet, lighter, her silver knife, the fake ID she had printed and laminated for herself on her way to Michigan as well as the private investigator’s license from South Dakota with the matching name. She wasn’t near as good as Sam making a fake ID but she would need it, so she did her best. Sam could laugh at her later. She contemplated detouring on her way to the station to get her car, but decided she could get it after her appointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cab picked her and her cheap coffee up in the parking lot of the nearby chain coffee shop and dropped her off in front of the station for take two. She pulled open the front door and walked up to the greeting desk where a petite, round woman with one of those ageless cherub-like faces now sat, overseeing the comings and goings of the busy police station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Delilah started, walking up to and standing in the exact same spot as the night before, “You must be Joanie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, can I help you?” she asked, turning large, mascara-clumped, doe eyes on Delilah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was here last night. Spoke to the Lieutenant and he told me I could catch Detective Lang today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you Ms. D. Rose, the PI?” she asked, looking down at something on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to not startle. “That’s right. Do you have a crystal ball back there?” A smile dimpled the girl’s cheeks adorably and Delilah nearly rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all, Lieutenant Bradley left me a note that you would probably be stopping by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he now?” Delilah briefly wondered what kind of commentary had accompanied the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I let Freddy know to expect you earlier. I think you’re in luck because he hasn’t gone out on a call, so he’s probably at his desk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great! Where can I find his desk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Through those doors. By the windows. You can’t miss it, he’s got this big bulletin board with pictures of missing kids all over it. So, sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah raised an eyebrow at the back of the girl’s turned head and wondered how a personality that bubbly and naive ended up at the front desk of the local PD. “Thanks for your help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moved beyond the front desk and she just heard Joanie’s effervescent greeting as someone else took her place. She pushed open the glass door and walked into what looked like yet another bullpen. Delilah looked around at the station’s brain: the large room was broken up into sections by virtue of desk placement, creating work spaces without physical barriers to impede collaboration between colleagues. The walls were lined with billboards and filing cabinets as cops milled around completing their various tasks, or grouping together around the coffee machine for a quick chat. The odd ficus style plant occasionally appeared between desks in an attempt to give the cold station a warmer feel, but the fine layer of dust covering the leaves made them look grey and dull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Delilah moved through the desks, she was met by several pairs of curious eyes, but no one stopped her as she walked to the far wall with the windows and scanned the two desks set up in a corner facing each other. Behind one of them she found the billboard of missing persons, but no sign of Detective Freddy Lang. She glanced around at his desk, beside which was the expected metal framed, padded seat chair where she imagined countless worried family members had sat describing the clothes their loved ones had last been seen wearing. She chose not to sit down as she waited for Lang to return, and instead she turned her analysis to his desk. There was hardly anything along the lines of personal items cluttering the space around the computer keyboard and mouse - piles of paperwork, assorted stationery and a bobble head player of the New York Giants sporting a caricature of a smile. A couple files lay closed by the left side of the keyboard, probably active cases that he was investigating. There were no pictures or tell-tale children’s drawings tackily taped to the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” a low, velvety voice spoke from behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned around calmly to look at the man. He was very simply dressed in a casual, button-down shirt and jeans. Average height and build, with shortish, messy sandy hair parted to the side and dark eyes that looked nearly black in the overhead fluorescents. He had a kind face, she noted as he patiently waited for her to explain what she had been doing rummaging around his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Lang?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me Freddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On purpose?” Delilah said, the question slipping out like a judgment. What grown man walks around calling himself Freddy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Childhood nickname, just can’t shake it - like a piece of gum stuck to my shoe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might help to stop introducing yourself with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it really doesn’t. People just don’t seem to like Fredrick. Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah frowned at the man’s light tone and casual overshare. There was a cadence to his speech that sounded alien to her, maybe it was in the way he said his name. She decided that maybe he was foreign but had lived in the States long enough to soften his accent, but not lose it completely. She moved to the side as Freddy took his place behind his desk and sat down. He gestured to the chair she had previously attributed to weepy family members, and she decided to stay standing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking into the disappearance of Neithan Shaw.” She unlocked her phone and turned the screen so Detective Freddy could see Neithan’s picture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pensive look came over the detective’s face as he examined the photo from the missing person’s poster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember this one. A year ago, right? Disappeared without a trace. That poor family. I haven’t been able to give them the answers they need to move on. Obviously.” he added with the raise of his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the family to hire a private investigator after all this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah swallowed, Lang’s guess skirting so close to her cover story. She opted to deflect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d appreciate it if you could walk me through the investigation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddy handed back her phone and sat back in his chair, crossing his ankle onto his knee and looking up at her. “We don’t just freely give out information to unidentified strangers, even pretty ones like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Detective. I’m Delilah Rose. I’m a PI back in Sioux Falls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s barely more than what you told Bradley last night. Kind of out of your jurisdiction, no? Do they give out PI licenses now that stretch beyond state lines?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you said, family called me. They haven’t given up hope of finding Neithan, unlike you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was getting defensive, something about his attitude rubbing her the wrong way. Freddy’s eyebrows crept up his forehead giving him a bored if slightly perplexed look. He turned around in his chair and opened one of the drawers in the cabinet beside him. He pulled out a thin manilla folder and handed it to Delilah. “Neithan Shaw, sixteen years old at the time of the report. Missing since May 2013. Parents filed the missing persons report. When Neithan failed to come out of his room for breakfast, Mom, Lilly, went in there to wake him up only to find the room in perfect order. The bed hadn’t been slept in. Kid gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah followed along in the report and could read the same facts outlined in a neat box print. There was a small collection of interview reports neatly bound in the back section of the folder. On the left side was the full colour print of the picture they had used to make the poster and a detailed description of Neithan. At the bottom of the report was the conclusion of the detective’s findings: </span>
  <em>
    <span>preliminary investigation reveals no motive, or signs of kidnapping. Presumed runaway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says here you think he ran away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are currently over five hundred active cases of missing persons in Michigan. It’s impossible to tell accurately how many of those turn out to be runaways, but I can tell you that very few of these cases are ever solved, especially not when the kid’s been missing for over a year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a couple months ago, we found a kid who had been missing for 8 in Sioux Falls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And can you honestly tell me that it wasn’t sheer dumb luck that did it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah had no answer for him. They certainly hadn’t been looking for Alex when they found her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sweet spot when looking for someone who goes missing is those first 48 hours. That’s why the Amber Alert is so important, get as many eyes looking as possible. But once those 48 are up, the trail gets colder. And if that person jumps state lines… they’re just dust in the wind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you gave up, is what you’re telling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t give up, just being a realist.” He picked up one of the folders on the corner of his desk and handed it to her. Inside, Delilah found a not so neatly organized folder with scattered notes on one side, and the picture of a twelve-year-old boy in a little league uniform. “What I’m saying is that I have to focus on those I have a chance to help. Neithan ran away. When he’s ready to come back, he will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assuming he can. What if he’s gotten himself into something bad and he needs help to find his way back? What if he just needs someone to tell him it’s OK to come home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you’re hoping for is a miracle. Real life doesn’t work that way. His family don’t need a PI to tear open old wounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah handed the folder of the young boy back to Freddy, who put it back down on his desk. She couldn’t fault the man for making assumptions based on a severely limited understanding of the world, afterall, until she had nearly been chomped on by vampires, hadn’t she done the same? Now she knew that miracles, amongst other things, were possible. She was, afterall, currently chasing one down, wasn’t she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t take up any more of your time. I don’t suppose I could keep Neithan’s file? Just to get me started?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t let you have that one, but if you’re determined to look into this, I can make you a copy. If the family hired you anyways, there’s nothing in there you don’t already know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He disappeared into a back room where Delilah assumed the photocopier was hidden. He was back quickly enough with a second manila folder that he handed to her. She glanced quickly at the photocopied pages inside then took her leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah headed up the sidewalk glancing around at the wide, tree-lined street as she made her way back towards the cluster of restaurants and bars in the area where she had left her car the night before. Her head swam with ideas about where to start her official investigation. She wanted to meet the parents, that was certain. They might have some insight on where Neithan might go if he was in trouble. She should look into his friends as well. At sixteen, he probably had friends his parents didn’t know about, so maybe a trip to the school would be good too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s fingers itched to open the file and read what she could of the detective’s initial investigation, back when the trail was still hot. She knew there had been no hope of finding him when the angel first took possession of him as a vessel, but now? Who knows what kind of control Neithan had considering the unique nature of their relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A block over from the bar where she had left her car, Delilah found a chain-style family diner and figured it would be as good a place as any to have some food and coffee while she read through the notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Reunited with her car, Delilah made her way through the residential streets following the instructions on her phone. The Shaws had a middle unit of a row of semi-detached houses built in identical blocks around twisted streets designed to confuse visitors with their uniformity. Delilah parked the Blue Devil in the designated driveway behind a navy blue Dodge Durango. Holding onto the manila folder, she walked up the cement steps to the front door. Hanging to the side was a large blue and copper suncatcher mobile in the shape of a butterfly that was lazily spinning back and forth in the early afternoon sunshine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took a breath and pressed the doorbell. The woman who opened the door looked just like her son, although not quite as stretched out. They had the same eyes looking through spectacles perched atop a narrow nose. But the woman staring at her from the other side of the door frame looked small, worried. She held the edges of her thin polyester knit like a security blanket against the world that had taken her son.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Shaw?” Delilah asked, forcing her face into an expression of empathic concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name is Delilah Rose,” she held out one of the thin cards she had printed at the same time as her fake license, “I’m a private investigator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah patiently waited while Lillian Shaw slowly reached for the card and examined it between her fingers. The complete desperation in her eyes pulled at something in Delilah’s gut and she shifted uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m looking into Neithan’s disappearance.” A tremor shook through the woman’s small frame at the mention of her son’s name and Delilah cursed the Heavenly host for the impact of their fall. How many spouses, parents, and children had left their homes without a trace? How many have been found again, burnt out husks as the angels possessing them killed each other. “Can I come in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman stepped to the side and invited her into her home. The first thing Delilah noticed was the empty living room and piled boxes. Mrs. Shaw walked through the stacked cardboard, heading for the kitchen at the back of the open concept house where Delilah could see chairs around a table, but not much else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you moving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yes. Can I get you a coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s not any trouble, I don’t want to put you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s nothing. The coffee maker is always the last thing to get packed, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A basic necessity,” Delilah agreed as she frowned at bare walls with pin sized holes where pictures once hung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes of milling around the kitchen and Mrs Shaw joined her at the table with two cups of coffee. Seemingly unprompted, she spoke with her quiet, hollow voice: “I haven’t been able to work since… that day, and Terry, Neithan’s father, he hasn’t been able to hold a steady job for months now. Sympathy runs out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We held out for as long as we could, but the bank took back our house. How is he supposed to come home now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah swallowed the sudden emotion that threatened to tighten her throat and sipped at her coffee. “I want to help you find him,” she said, having regained her control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Ms. Rose. I appreciate you wanting to help, but we have no money. And it’s just been too long. Detective Lang says--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spoke to Lang, Mrs. Shaw, and I happen to disagree with his closed mindset. I believe Neithan is out there, and if he is, I want to bring him home to his family… wherever that happens to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah had no ready answer that would help explain her desire to help to the grieving mother. She had been brought to her knees by her son’s disappearance, and now she only waited for the reaper’s blade to fall on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about Neithan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resigned and tired, Lillian Shaw told Delilah about the night her son had gone missing. The narrative was circuitous and kept branching off into tangents as the poor woman tried to gather the memories of the last time she had seen her son. Delilah tried to ignore most of the story, sifting through the details for clues about Neithan’s whereabouts. Delilah held a large piece of the puzzle of Neithan’s disappearance, but she couldn’t really come out and tell the mother her son had been possessed by a fallen angel who was now on the run in her boy’s meatsuit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The file that Fenton PD gave me, says they concluded Neithan’s disappearance as a runaway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neithan would never do that. He was a good boy. Said his prayers every night and kissed me goodbye every morning before school. He was a dreamer. Why would he run away? What if it was something I said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lillian,” Delilah said, reaching across the table to take the crying woman’s hands in hers, “This was not your fault. You can’t think that way. Runaway or not, something made Neithan leave here in the middle of the night. Whatever the reason was doesn’t matter to me, what matters is that I find him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Lang says he’ll come home when he’s ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes that’s hard to do without encouragement, without the permission to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would Neithan think he can’t come home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory from her long suppressed childhood came back to her as she considered the question. She had wanted to go home to Cimarron so many times after her father had taken her away from everyone and everything she knew. Why hadn’t she? It wasn’t that far, there were busses and various ways to get from Kansas City to there. If she had paid her way through college by rubbing dimes together, why couldn’t she have done it then to get home?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shame. Part of her had believed so completely that she had been worthless, a burden, not worth anyone’s concern, brainwashed by her worthless father and the men he had invited into her teenage bed to pay for the water stained ceiling over his head and the beer in his belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew Neithan staying away now was probably just as much because of the angel’s control as his own decision in order to keep his family and friends safe, but if he couldn’t come home, maybe he’d convinced the angel to go somewhere else that was familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are many reasons that might make him feel like coming home is not a possibility. There’s no point in wondering what those might be, just know that it’s possible. Is there anywhere that you can think of where he might want to go? Somewhere he might feel safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked lost and confused, maybe bewildered by the idea that her son would feel he was not welcome back in his own family. She shook her head and pulled at a loose strand of sandy brown hair. “I don’t know. This is his home! I just want him to come home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to calm her back down, but there was nothing she could say, it was like she wasn’t there anymore as the mother lost herself in a cloud of self-inflicted guilt. Delilah took her leave shortly after, feeling horrible about the pain she had unwittingly caused her. She reminded the woman to give her a call if she thought of anything that could help and walked away wishing there was a brick wall nearby she could bloody her knuckles on instead of feeling the swelling pain and shame inside herself. “This must be why Dean carries a fucking flask everywhere he goes,” she found herself mumbling to her stearing wheel and regretting the fresh wave of pain the thought of him had set off inside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head was throbbing again, and she seriously considered stopping in at the bar again for a drink or 10, or maybe another romp with Sons of Anarchy. A few blocks of cloned suburban front lawns later and she managed to leave the development and hit a faster flowing boulevard lined with a mix of commerce and housing in a typical small-town-pretending-to-be-a-big-city way, and Delilah could feel the suffocating feelings starting to relinquish their hold slowly. She took a deep breath and glanced at the time on her phone. School would be out in another couple hours. She would need to get a move on it before she missed her chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked around to get her bearings then followed the directions she had studied that morning to get to the high school.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled open the door to a typical squat building dominating the campus with its white trim and large banner that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go, Tigers, Go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The hallways were mostly empty, the majority of the student body sequestered inside classrooms or the separate building that housed the physical education facilities. Her boots made no noise on the industrial tiles and her knock on the door of the general office startled the secretary who had been focused on the computer screen, a phone jammed between her shoulder and ear. She gestured for Delilah to wait with the raise of her perfectly manicured finger. Delilah nodded and gleaned around at the inside walls that bore graduating class photos in identical gold frames dating back to 1998. A blank spot at the end was ready for Fenton’s class of ‘14 photo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you, ma’am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned around and approached the long counter behind which the dark-haired secretary was waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so. My name is Delilah Rose, I’m a private investigator. I’m looking into the disappearance of one of your students.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me? One of ours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, this time last year, give or take a month. Neithan Shaw?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I can help. I’m just a temp. The regular secretary came down with the flu.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to not let her sudden excitement show. She also tried to not think about what conning this poor woman might do to her job and reputation. “Well, to start with, I’d like to see any files you have on Neithan Shaw; report cards, disciplinary notes, awards, reports... anything you have that will let me build a profile. I’m also going to need to interview his friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is out of the question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stern, deep, no nonsense voice came from the now open door to the left of the secretary’s desk marked </span>
  <em>
    <span>Principal</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Delilah met the dark eyes of a man whose posture, royal blue suit, and returning glare screamed “I dare you to fuck with me”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Delilah tacked on her most persuasive smile, “I’m Delilah Rose, private investigator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a damn who or what you are. Student records are not for strangers who wander into the school unannounced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk in your office? I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped to the side, gesturing towards the room beyond the open door and Delilah made her way around the wooden counter/barrier that had no doubt been there as long as the school had. As she walked past the Principle, she was trying very hard not to feel cowed by the imposing man, suddenly feeling as small as she had felt in high school when her sporadic attendance had drawn the attention of the school authorities; not that any of them had cared enough to question the reasons behind it. She spotted the man’s name quickly on the large wooden nameplate that sat at the front of the imposingly antique mahogany desk. A quick glance at the encased wooden shelves and oddly out of place metal filing cabinet, told Delilah that Principal Oliver Thompson was very much a man of his school: proud of its history, its students and their achievements, both academic and athletic. This was a man who valued excellence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced, Principal Thompson,” she started, giving him her most genuine expression of remorse. “I thought that maybe Detective Lang of the Fenton PD would have let you know that I would be coming by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know Detective Lang?” The man asked as they sat down on either side of the large desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded. “I spoke to him just this morning. I don’t like playing in other people’s playgrounds without their permission. Maybe you and I can start again?” Delilah smiled at the man and although the sour expression did not leave his face, he sat back in his chair, crossing his hands over his midriff, waiting. “I’m a PI,” Delilah pulled her fake PI license from her pocket and flipped it open to show the man. He glanced at it briefly, then went back to fixating his skeptical glare on her eyes, no doubt a very effective technique to ferret out lying teenagers. Delilah doubled her efforts to maintain her composure and suppress any tics that might give her away. “I specialize in returning lost children to their parents, particularly runaways. Approximately a year ago, this boy, Neithan Shaw,” Delilah pulled the colour copy of the photo out of the manila case file and put it down in the middle of the green leather blotter. Again, Thompson barely glanced down at it before returning to scrutinizing her. “This kid went missing. Disappeared without a trace. The police are overworked and understaffed, they don’t have the resources to look into this case anymore. That’s where I come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We spoke to Lang last year. We told him everything there was to know about Shaw then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I read the details of the information you provided to the police,” Delilah opened the folder again and rifled through the neat stack of interviews looking for the ones from the school staff. “You weren’t one of them though, it said the cops interviewed the Assistant Principal, a Ms. Glover?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Assistant Principal handles all student affairs, it seemed pertinent at the time that she be the one to speak to Detective Lang.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which means, the police never got your side of the story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no “my side” to this story Ms. Rose. Mr. Shaw was a completely average student that did not stand out from the crowd in any way. Before his disappearance, no one on the staff even had reason to remember his name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah couldn’t help but be horrified by the man’s words. Certainly no child deserved to go so thoroughly unnoticed by anyone - nor to be admonished for it. She shouldn’t have been surprised though, she had read as much in the teachers’ and Assistant Principal’s testimonies. What shocked her was the Principal’s complete lack of tact about a student being so thoroughly invisible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While I certainly appreciate your candor, I find it hard to believe that there is nothing here to mark Neithan’s passage through the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every cohort is different, but every year there is at least one student that ends up as just a photo in the year book that no one particularly remembers. We have a couple thousand students in these halls at any given time, not every one of them can stand out and shine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was fuming on the inside. What kind of system would let an insensitive creep like this run a school?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d still like to have a look at Neithan’s file and interview some of Neithan’s classmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not going to happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to swallow her anger. “You are interfering with an investigation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man slowly leaned forward in his chair, his interlaced fingers pressing against his desk as he coldly looked Delilah in the eye. “You are not a member of the Fenton PD, Ms. Rose, you are a private citizen with a piece of paper that says you can ask questions. That is all. It’s my job to protect the privacy of the students in this school from the scrutiny of people with fake credentials and sinister motives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Principal Thompson--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of my school. Before I call the cops and have you escorted out.” He picked up the picture that was still on his desk and held it out to Delilah who was shaking inside from her pent up fury. She couldn’t help but think that Sam would have been able to get so much more out of the man than her. He would know just what to say or do, when to push, threaten, or cajole, while all she could say was: “Thank you for your time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up, the chair scraping against the ground noisily, and tucked the picture back into the folder. She turned around to leave and even managed to smile at the asshole, before making her way out of the office and into the hallway. She held onto her composure for only a few yards towards the exit though and was suddenly overwhelmed with the intense need to scream. She tried hard to slam the lid down on her frustration, grinding her teeth. As she shook and fumed though, she glimpsed a word on a nearby door that made her quickly refocus, and all the rage evaporated in a puff of surprised enlightenment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around her to make sure Principal Hard Ass was not staring at her, she knocked on the door and pushed it open, just as the little plaque under the frosted window had instructed her to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The school’s guidance counselor’s office was much more modest than the principal’s. In lieu of dark wood and heavy shelving, this room was decorated with prints of sunny valleys and mountain lakes in thin, modern frames. Though Delilah gauged the room to be smaller than the Principal’s, the use of area rugs, well chosen hanging potted ferns and minimalistic furniture made it feel much more spacious - and welcoming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” The soft, quiet voice had come from the woman sitting at a small table set in the corner of the room under the only window. A single ray of sunshine was falling all over her short cropped hair which was the most surprising shade of royal blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I certainly hope so,” Delilah said, feeling instantly at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a nod and an evaluative tilt of her head, the guidance counselor turned back to her laptop, typed a couple quick words and tilted the screen shut. She walked over to where Delilah was standing and sat herself down in one of two matching padded chairs that were eerily reminiscent of Delilah’s favourite chair at the bunker, if a little more modern. She gestured for Delilah to sit down in the other chair facing her and she did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a fruitful interview, Delilah reflected as she glanced down at her notes pushing open the door that would lead her out of the school. Poor kid didn’t have it easy. She felt better though knowing that unlike what the principal had told her, Neithan had not gone completely unnoticed at the school. According to the guidance counselor, his affinity for computers went way beyond anything the school could even touch on. She had been actively pushing him towards applying for early admission at MIT, working through his self-esteem issues so he could see his self-worth. When he had gone missing at the end of the school year, part of her honestly hoped he had just packed off to Massachussettes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beyond that, the counselor had not had much insight in where Neithan might have run to, if he had run away. They had stumbled into discussing his friendships and as it turned out, what his life lacked in physical, face-to-face interactions, he made up for with a rich and diverse online life. Delilah was able to get the online handle of a friend Neithan had mentioned a lot in his discussions with the counsellor and it was this piece of information she had been most excited about. Maybe, Neithan had reached out to this friend, the same way he had reached out to her when he had been scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not until Delilah was standing a few feet away from her car that she realized someone was leaning up against it, waiting for her. And not just anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Freddy Lang,” she said, tucking her tablet into the manila folder he had given her back at the station. “Fancy meeting you here. How did you know this was my car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I didn’t. I was just on my rounds and I drove by the school and spotted it. I figured I had to meet the owner because they were bound to be up to no good, driving something like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah narrowed her eyes. “Principal Thompson called you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Principal Thompson called me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded, looking around the many cars in the parking lot just waiting for the return of their owners. “And you just had to rush over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddy’s lips twitched into a momentary smile, but did not comment. After a moment he said, “I called Sioux Falls.” He paused, watching to see if she would react.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah had nothing to say; she knew Jody would not blow her cover. “And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like you’ve made an impression on the Sheriff there. She had nothing but good things to say about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad you got that sorted out. If you don’t mind, I have an investigation to continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little strange, don’t you think? Law enforcement and PIs make for awkward bedfellows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her with his mildly curious eyes as they bore into her. She frowned as she felt a strange stirring inside, a yearning to confide in the not unhandsome Freddy. She shook herself, and the feeling dissipated like it had never been there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’ll excuse me, detective, I have an investigation to continue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood to the side, giving her access to her car and she stuck her key into the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it going? Your investigation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going. A couple interesting leads, maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s good. Maybe we should go for a drink. Talk about your leads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah pulled open the door and dropped her things onto the passenger seat before she turned to look at Freddy again, trying to gauge where his motivations lay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hard to tell if you’re trying to steal my leads, or hitting on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one is more likely to succeed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither.” Despite herself, she felt the familiar twinge in her lower belly which she chose to ignore. Distractions are for when there were no leads. “If you’ll excuse me, detective, I have a case to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped behind the wheel, into the Dart’s bucket seat and pulled the door closed, putting an end to the conversation. She couldn’t help glancing back at him in her rearview as she drove away, but quickly dismissed him. A slight giddiness rushing through her veins; she had leads to explore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The giddiness did not last though, and when the take out Thai food ran out, so did Delilah’s enthusiasm. Around 10PM, she gave Jody a call, remembering to check in with her and thank her for covering for her with Freddy. Jody asked about the case and Delilah vented some of her frustration with all her leads petering out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes it takes a lot of grinding to get anywhere, hun. Keep looking, and listen to your gut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah thought about what her gut wanted and it did another strange little backflip. With a sigh she went back to searching the web for traces of Neithan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was well into the middle of the night when her phone trilled, drawing her tired and frustrated attention away from her fruitless search.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” She rubbed at her aching forehead, resting her eyes from her tablet screen for a few minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Sam sounded as tired as she felt. There were quiet sounds of a highway in the distance, but nothing else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything OK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tough hunt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could say that.” He sighed into the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get your werewolf?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah. One of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a little more prompting, Sam finally told her all about Kate and her werewolf sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Sam.” When he didn’t respond, she pushed on. “Are you sure everything’s OK?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Everything is not OK. It’s Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took a sharp breath, but otherwise managed to keep a tight grip on her feelings. “What’s wrong with Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another frustrated sigh blew into the receiver and Delilah wished she could be with him. This felt like a physical comfort kind of conversation. Miles and several states separated them though, and the phone would have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, spill for fuck’s sake. I’m not a paper doll - I won’t crumple just because you mention your brother.” But she did shudder. Maybe miles and states weren’t such a bad thing after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s just something off about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been through hell… He’s not going to just bounce back right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that. That’s why I didn’t want to jump back in so fast. This hunt was a mistake. He’s not ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah thought that maybe Sam wasn’t ready either, but she kept that to herself knowing the same could be said about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wish… I wish he’d freaking talk to me. Instead all I get from him is deflection and platitudes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t the kind of thing you can force. He’ll either talk to you, or he won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He used to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and she scoffed. “You must be joking. All your brother ever shared with me was his bed, his frustration and his fists. Not exactly the insight of the year here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I’m so fucking sorry, Delilah. I wasn’t thinking. I’m a fucking idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it. Please. I’m fine. A little broken, but who isn’t in this day and age? Whatever darkness Dean is keeping from you, maybe it’s better that way, OK? Maybe he’s just trying to protect you, and the world, from whatever the fuck is going on with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” They were quiet for a moment and Delilah lay back on the motel’s lumpy mattress keeping the phone to her ear, listening to the generic background noises of wherever Sam had decided to go for his call. After a while and another sigh into the phone, Sam turned the conversation back to her search for Neithan. She shared her own frustrations about the series of dead ends she kept hitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know, trying to look for an angel by going to the vessel’s family, was kind of thin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that! But what else am I supposed to do? I’ve got a gamer’s handle I can’t trace, a useless supercomputer sitting back at the bunker, and absolutely nowhere else to look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gamer’s handle?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kid was big into the online gaming thing. Pretty much his closest friend was online and I can’t track him down because all I know is that he goes by DeadByLove79.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can probably look into that for you if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? That’d be amazing!” She gave him the details she knew about Neithan’s gaming habits so he could do his magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK. I’ll get to work on this. You need to give Cas a call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill skittered down Delilah’s spine. “I don’t think--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously. Clearly your angel isn’t stalking his vessel’s hometown waiting for you to stumble across him. You need an expert, and Cas is the one we’ve got. Call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grudgingly agreed to call the Winchester Angel Connection then signed off with Sam. She stared at the mottled ceiling of the cheap motel room knowing Sam was right, but also really not wanting to get involved with Castiel. Hadn’t he told her he was chasing down rogue angels? Who knew what that meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another few minutes of rumination, she grabbed her phone again and sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through her contacts. She tapped Castiel’s name and stuck the phone to her ear listening to it ring. She had a moment of worry that maybe she would be waking him up, but then reminded herself that angels don’t sleep. After the fourth ring though, Castiel’s deeply scratchy voice started: “This is my voicemail. Make your voice a mail--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried not to laugh as she left him a message asking him to call her back and that it was about looking for an angel. She kept it vague, gave him her number in case he hadn’t figured out caller ID and then hung up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked over to where she had left her tablet when Sam had called and the dark screen beckoned her again, her obsessive restiveness not letting her switch off even though it was getting late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The nightmares woke her. Her skin was drenched in cold sweat that smelled of her fear and panic and she gulped at the air in the room like she was drowning. Images flickered and dissipated as the nightmare retreated to her subconscious, leaving her both exhausted and adrenalized all at once. She could feel her senses seeking out the danger her pumping blood told them was near, but she squeezed her eyes shut trying to regain control. Slowly, the panic abated and she breathed deeply, the air rattling in her ribcage before she forced it out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bleary eyed, she rolled off the damp bed and stumbled into the cramped bathroom. The light flickered a moment and Delilah startled, a spike in her waning adrenaline, looking around for the creature about to attack her. There was nothing there and she leaned against the edge of the sink cabinet looking into the rectangular mirror in front of her. It was moisture damaged, the corners and edges dulled from the flaking reflective leaf under the glass. In the center of the mirror, she recognized her eyes, nose and lips framed by her dark hair in complete disarray, and yet it was like looking at a stranger. She had been so many different people, living so many different lives: from the happy little girl, to the tortured hunter she was now. Every time life threw something her way, it altered her and she felt like she was stuck in the middle of a transition. Who was she right now? Who was she in the process of becoming? Would she ever be able to look into her own eyes and see past the pain and suffering, past the pleading little girl who just wanted her mommy back?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked away, turning on the faucet and bending down to splash cold water onto her face. The droplets dripped down her neck and shoulders as she gasped from the shock and then did it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get it together, McAllister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught the leftover smell of stale sweat. She shed her clothes and climbed into the shower to scrub a layer off before she was satisfied that she could not smell the lingering fear anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she stepped back out into the room, drying herself with a scratchy motel towel, Delilah noticed that the light was blinking on her phone. She moved over to the dresser beside the bed and swiped at the screen, noting that it was going on noon already.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OMG plz do smthn about Jody.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah couldn’t help but smile, Alex’s angst and irritation coming through even in text message form.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shouldn’t you be in school?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She typed as a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lame break.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry your break is so lame.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>🙄</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah laughed and put the phone down so she could get dressed. She found another message waiting for her when she got back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When R U coming back? Jody picks at me non-stop since U took off. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be back when I can. Helping a friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah spied her tablet still sitting on the small table where she had left it the night before when she had crawled into the bed and passed out. She thought about her fruitless searching. She had asked everyone she could think of to help her find Neithan, but she hadn’t thought to ask the other 16 year-old she knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I want to find out more information about a 16 year-old gamer… where would you suggest I look?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yur asking me? How would I know? That’s a Jody question.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m asking you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah put her phone down again and started brushing out her water-logged hair. She decided to braid it down her back, too impatient to dry it. She put on her make up and returned to the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Could try social media, I guess?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I tried Facebook and Instagram, Twitter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>God you’re old.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah rolled her eyes and was about to call her a smartass but she saw the tell-tale dots letting her know Alex was typing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should try Reddit and Tumblr. Younger crowd</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah would have to remember to get back at the teen for the sass, but for the moment she was busy looking up the suggested sites. She typed in Neithan’s name but the query came back empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing. Thanks anyways. You should get back to class.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did U use real names? If he’s got helicopters, he wouldn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah frowned, but quickly typed in Neithan’s friend’s handle and she hit the jackpot. Post after post and conversation threads, right there for anyone to read. Then something made Delilah frown as she picked up her phone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you use a fake name on social?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>GTG. BYE!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed but quickly returned to her search. It was obvious within a few minutes that nothing new would be revealed by searching these other sites, they weren’t yielding much of anything more personal than what she had found already. This DeadByLove79 was a point of interest for Neithan, that much was obvious. She could see that his name figured somewhere in nearly all their posts, threads or whatevers. The friendship did seem mutual to a certain extent in the sense that DeadByLove also responded to most of his comments and threads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s stomach grumbled and she figured maybe it was time to venture out and find some breakfast, or at least a decent cup of coffee. She prepared to leave, throwing on a light khaki jacket with about a thousand pockets over her chosen torn black skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt. She checked her gun clip out of reflex, even knowing she hadn’t fired a shot in a while, and tucked it in its holster which she clipped to her belt. The usual tools she tucked into her various pockets, her phone going into her back jeans pocket. Feet tucked away in her boots, along with her silver knife, she left the room holding her tablet and the police file with Neithan’s information in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was over a plate of scrambled eggs and pan fried tater-tots while she sipped at burnt coffee that she got another text message. Checking the notifications on her sleeping screen she saw it was Sam and she quickly checked the full message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Andrea Plover, 810, somewhere in Lower Michigan?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah could feel the excitement rising again, Sam was a fucking genius!</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you have an address?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s all I could get out of the database and tracking her cell phone tower pings when she posts. Probably a minor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Cell phone towers. Delilah thought about her texting conversation with Alex.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can you pinpoint specific towers at certain times? Like from 9 to 3 Monday to Friday?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a tense pause, her coffee getting cold while she stared intently at the phone waiting for Sam’s reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Signal mostly bounces between 3 towers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Any significant landmarks in that area?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How ‘bout a school? St-Alphonso’s Academy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re brilliant! TY!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Headed back to Kansas. I’ll have a look at your encrypted computer when I get there. Be careful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah could barely contain her excitement. She wolfed down the rest of her late breakfast and left a twenty on the table to cover the bill. When she got in her car, her GPS was set and she sped out of the parking lot, heading north towards Flint.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sat in her car frustrated again by school administration. The private, all girls’ school refused to release any kind of information on Andrea Plover, nor would they summon her to the office so she could interview her. Delilah was getting very fucking sick of bureaucratic bullshit. She returned to scouring social media and the internet, this time also looking into school related activities. She got really lucky directly on the school’s website with an article from their online paper highlighting the upcoming senior play. Andrea was one of the cast members and had a headshot as part of the full page presentation of the play that was set to be performed at the end of next week. Delilah didn’t spend much time reading up on it, rather going on to the next link in the search to be sure she knew all that she could to spot her mark in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bell rang out announcing the end of the classes for the day, Delilah headed towards the glass door entrance to the auditorium building. Pretty soon, a smaller group of three girls dressed in the burgundy and gold school uniform, broke away from the swarm of students heading for the school busses and turned to head down towards where Delilah was waiting. One of the girls had chin length, straight dark brown hair, glasses and, of all things, a beret and she was gesticulating frantically as she spoke to the smaller asian girl in a white turtleneck and burgundy jumper beside her who was furiously taking notes. Trailing a little behind them was the cute, strawberry blonde from the school paper, her long hair pinned to her head, a splash of freckles across her nose. Delilah tucked her phone back into her pocket and pulled out her PI credentials from her jacket as she walked towards the three girls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrea Plover?” she asked, all three coming to an abrupt stop to stare at her. “I’m Delilah Rose. I’m investigating the disappearance of Neithan Shaw from Fenton.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a cop?” asked the tiniest of them with a glare that could melt ice cream on a cold day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a private investigator.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds sketchy to me. You don’t look like a cop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably because I’m not a cop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t talk to her Drea, I smell stranger danger. And she’s packing.” The beret wearing girl glared at her too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although the blonde girl did not look completely sure about Delilah, she rolled her eyes at the two others’ drama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marie, Maeve, I got this, you can just go inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outrage twisted the beret wearing girl and her eyes bulged. “We do not have time to waste here! Are you forgetting the play is NEXT WEEK? We have sets to finish and dress rehearsal and we still have to figure out the end of act 3! I canNOT believe you right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a patient smile, Andrea turned to look at the girl having a meltdown. “Marie, it’s fine. You guys can do this without me for one rehearsal. Just stick the robot head on the scarecrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you?” Marie cried out, turning her full disbelieving teenage rage on the taller girl. “Deserter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah watched them warily, wondering if she was going to have to get in the middle of a free for all, but with a huff Marie turned on her heel and stomped off towards the doors. The remaining girl, Maeve she presumed, turned to face Delilah and fixed her with an intense stare that made her want to back away into the nearby shrubs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m memorizing your face in case Andrea goes missing so I can accurately describe you to the real police.” She spoke with a quiet voice that failed to match the girl’s intense stare but was effective nonetheless. Then she moved off towards the door too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah glanced at Andrea who was still standing by watching her curiously. “Are they always that--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intense? Oh yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ll be much help though, I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gaggle of giggling girls strolled by heading towards the green space beyond the sprawling brick building. One of them waved at Andrea and she waved back with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah looked around, met by another set of suspicious eyes. “I know this is going to sound terrible considering Maeve’s got my face memorized as a kidnapper… but can we go somewhere so we can talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could go get a coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You drink coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah. Everybody drinks coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shrug Delilah agreed and then guided the smiling girl towards her car parked on the other side of the gymnasium decorated with a large “Go Ravens!” rally sign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turned out, “coffee” was closer to “caffeine infused cold sugary smoothie” for which Delilah handed over a $5 bill and barely got any change back. They settled at a table by the large window overlooking the parking lot, Andrea more than happy to slurp at the whip cream topped concoction through a dark green straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took Neithan’s photo out of the folder and pushed it across the table to the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this him?” the girl asked, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Neithan Shaw, 16. He went missing last year. Does he look familiar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m sorry. Why do you think I would know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you go by the name DeadByLove79 on Reddit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… yeah. How? My real name’s not even linked to that account.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A friend of mine specializes in online tracking. You actually do know Neithan Shaw, just not by that name. You know him as ColdTouchofCarmine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl’s grey eyes went round as she pushed aside her frozen sugar and looked at Neithan’s picture more closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what CTC looks like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean we never shared pictures and his profile picture in everything we played was always Eldwin of the Wind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elf character. From Dawn of Creation III?” Delilah must have had the same look on her face as when Alex tried to talk to her about the stuff Iris was into because Andrea’s exasperated eye roll and sigh matched hers precisely. “It’s only the greatest video game ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah rallied her thoughts, trying not to alienate the teen further. “Have you had any contact with Neithan-- CTC, lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sadness came over the girl’s features as she handed the photo back to Delilah. “He ghosted me a long time ago. I figured he got bored with me. I didn’t want to meet him, you know, IRL? You hear so much shit about pedophiles and murderers and internet stalkers and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wanted to meet you? When was this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… I dunno. Like last spring maybe? We’ve been talking forever, and I just… didn’t want to ruin that, y’know?” She stirred her straw in the mess of liquefying whipped cream. “When he stopped talking to me, I figured he was mad at me. I tried to take it back, I tried, like, finding him in the games and stuff, but he just stopped playing I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrea, Neithan went missing in May last year. No one has heard from him in all that time. Not his parents, not his friends from school. I thought maybe since you were friends online, he might reach out to you. It might feel... safer that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a shrug and sniff the blonde shook her head. “He hasn’t. Did you say he lives in Fenton?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So close. We always kind of joked that we’d find out one day that we were neighbours all along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never talked about where you lived?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew he lived in Michigan. He used to talk about some camping place on one of the lakes. He used to go there when he was a kid. He joked that it would be so much cooler to play world exploring games, but like IRL… if it wasn’t for the deer flies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember where he went?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he never really said anything specific, ya know? He preferred talking about the games and fantasy stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And meeting in person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was just near the end though. And just once. We had been fighting lesser demons on Mount Cra’agaar, trying to find the Jewel of Maganite and he sounded… different? I don’t think he was very happy sometimes. And then he started talking about running away and he wanted to come see me. It scared me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded, desperation could be a scary thing to see in our friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when he stopped talking to me after that, I thought… I mean… I thought maybe he’d… died or KHS, y’know? What am I supposed to do? What if it’s my fault?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea’s growing distress at her friend’s imagined demise pulled at Delilah and she leaned in over the table, bending her head low to catch the girl’s dropped gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to Neithan is not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god! He IS dead, isn’t he?” The girl let out a sob and buried her face in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Andrea, listen to me. Neithan is alive, OK? But he’s got himself into trouble and I’m trying to find him so I can bring him home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say. But we know he’s alive. He’s out there somewhere. We’ll get him back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andrea seemed to calm down and she wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hands. Delilah knew that the girl had nothing more to add to her search currently, but if she and Neithan had truly been that close, there was a chance that the next time he needed help he might reach out to her like he’d done with Delilah. She straightened up and pulled one of her PI business cards from her coat pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andrea, listen to me.” When the girl looked up with puffy eyes and still damp cheeks Delilah held out her card. “I think it’s very possible that Neithan might try to contact you. If he does, I want you to call me. Even if he tells you not to. It’s not safe for him out there, and if you try to help him yourself, it won’t be for you either, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not safe, like how?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are things in this world that are best left to the shadows. Neithan got caught up with some of those things, and the last thing I, you, or anybody wants is for those shadows to follow him home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was unclear if Delilah’s hints made the girl’s fantasy-drawn mind go straight to monsters or if the logical, this-is-real-life side pulled her towards drugs and crime, but she most definitely looked scared. Her goal really hadn’t been to do that, but what she didn’t want was for this girl to go off looking for Neithan, or even have him come to her in secret. She could only hope the teenager would keep the card close and reach out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah dropped her back off at St-Alphonso’s so she could assuage her friends’ concerns, although she dismissed that mostly, saying Marie would have gone back to worrying about her play by now, but best to let their drama teacher know she hadn’t gone missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was pensive as she pulled out of the school parking lot and headed back out on the road, aiming to return to her motel room in Fenton. It was as good a place as any for her to go back to and wait to hear from Castiel. She might even try calling him again. Delilah ran through everything she had learned about Neithan since coming to Michigan and she felt like she understood more with every interview: how a kid from the suburbs, living in comfortable middle class, with parents that cared about him, could say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> to an angel. Alariel certainly had found the perfect willing vessel: young, lonely, devout and with a deep desire to escape from his ordinary world. The angel would have simply had to show Neithan that the mystical and divine were real, and naive as he was, he would have gone along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to think back to her time at the angel compound and her interactions with him, and she realized that even though Alariel seemed to be in direct contact with Neithan, speaking to him and discussing what was was going on in the real world, Neithan had never really come out and spoken to her directly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not until that call.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Delilah? …I need your help.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had sounded terrified. Like a terrified kid. Not like the slightly excited angel she had worked with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Neithan told me I should try that next time I see you," he said, lowering his freshly bumped knuckles, then his eyes lost focus a little as he continued, "But you did." There was a pause, then he added, "I am not a 'dork'."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking of the angel compound quickly brought on another memory: </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I thought I told you to stay at the bunker," </span>
  </em>
  <span>the voice a deep growl and her gut twisted uncomfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah tried to stave off the rising panic by turning on the stereo in her car. She dialed through the staticky stations with a mumbled, “When I get back, I’m having Sam install satellite radio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when she looked up again that movement in her passenger side mirror caught her attention. With a frown, she adjusted her rearview and focused on a car that was barely visible beyond a navy blue mini-van. A second later, it disappeared behind the obstructing van and went back to being invisible to her. With a frown, she looked back at the road in front of her, but it wasn’t another mile that the same car peaked around the van again. Almost like whoever was driving it, was trying to sneak a look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get real, Dee. Stop being such a paranoid sucker all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She continued to drive, turning onto the I-75, heading south towards Fenton. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing in the rearview, and although the blue minivan was no longer in sight, as she glanced back to the road ahead and then back to her rearview, she spotted a car pulling the same weird peeking manoeuver as before. It was hard to tell if the generic white car was in fact the same, but as Delilah looked ahead again and the three lanes of light traffic shifted, a smirk spread on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s show this wad what a 275HP V8 can do. What do you say Blue?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a foot flattening out the gas and the other pressing the clutch and shifting into the fourth gear smoothly, she weaved around the mud red Hyundai sedan and slipped into the space behind the gaudy yellow H2, and a quick downshift and twist of the wheel brought her alongside a rusted white Tacoma. It wasn’t long before she left all of them behind as the interstate opened up and she let the Demon zoom away. She drove a comfortable 10 above the limit, only slowing down occasionally as the three-lanes turned into two after the Detroit turn off. She was in Fenton in no time and turned off the highway completely. She spotted a sign for a nearby bar and grill and decided dinner sounded like a good thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning the corner at an intersection though, she happened to glance in her rearview and spotted the car again, this time staying three cars back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Delilah was willing to believe that someone could have managed to follow her, afterall, the highway only had a couple exits between here and Flint, and her car wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, but something just didn’t feel right here. The fine hair at the base of her skull stood straight out, sending a shiver rushing down her spine and to the tips of her fingers, raising the hairs on her arms along the way. Maybe she was being pursued by some super-powered creature. She immediately thought of Garth and his lesson on the enhanced sense of smell of werewolves. Could something like that be following her? Something that had caught her scent?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, she knew how to deal with all sorts of creepy-crawlies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah continued her way to the bar and grill and parked her car in a spot on the outskirt of the lot. Fighting the urge to look behind her, she headed for the corner of the white, one story building, trees hiding her from the street as she headed down the alleyway towards the back. She felt exposed even with the tree cover as she walked down the straight, narrow alley. Her body was tingling non-stop from the rush of adrenaline and she kept her hands in her jacket pockets and away from her gun. She wasn’t even sure she was still being followed, until the softest scrape of shoe sole on pavement betrayed someone else’s presence. She scanned the back of the building quickly, noting the concealed and deserted lot behind the restaurant. A tall privacy fence, tagged with seasons-old spray paint separated the back lot from the property beyond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart pounding Delilah turned the corner and quickly darted between the garbage container and industrial air conditioning unit housing. The smell from the garbage was rank and she hoped that it would be enough to mask her scent from whatever was stalking her. She hid behind the dumpster and pulled her gun, aiming it at the ground while she peeked out from her hiding spot, waiting for her stalker to show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seconds felt like minutes but soon enough she heard the uncertain footfalls of her pursuer. She retreated a little further behind the dumpster, keeping barely an eye on the back lot when familiar slightly floppy sandy locks came into view along with the rest of Detective Freddy Lang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” she whispered under her breath as he moved slowly out of her hiding spot. She stealthily straightened up a few steps behind Freddy and held her gun in both hands aimed at his head. When she pulled back on the hammer with a click, Freddy froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you?” she asked him, proud of her steady vocal chords even under the stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, Freddy,” he said as he turned around. Then his hands were in the air at shoulder height and his eyes widened. “Whoa!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I was asking, asshole. What the fuck are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell is wrong with you? I’m a cop, Delilah. Did you seriously just pull a gun on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you following me?” Doubt was starting to creep in as she held her weapon steadily aimed at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Following you? I was driving by and I saw your car. Figured I’d see if I could try asking you for dinner again, but then you took off around the building, and I got curious. Seriously, can you put the weapon down? I don’t want to have to arrest you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying that you just happened to be driving by and spotted my car?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a nice car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not stalking me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… Not at this moment, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was quickly losing her conviction and she lowered her weapon slowly, keeping it in her hands, ready to be repositioned and fired if need be. “What do you mean, “not at this moment”? Were you stalking me before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stalking? No. Come on. I like to keep my eye on persons of interest… and you are definitely very interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lopsided grin stretched a little wider. Delilah was torn between rolling her eyes and smirking her disdain for his blatant flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is the matter with you? Sneaking up on someone with a fucking gun? I could’ve shot you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said with a sheepish grin that was the final nail in the coffin. Delilah uncocked her gun and returned it to its holster. “That’s my bad. I wasn’t expecting you to try and shoot me. Most people think I’m charming… sort of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah did shake her head this time, the adrenaline was abating now and she was fighting the mild nausea that always seemed to accompany the ebb. “What happened to priorities and that bullshit - focusing on those you can help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a wink, Freddy answered: “Ever heard of clocking out? I’m off duty. So, how ‘bout that drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah frowned at him. “Is there something wrong with you? I almost shoot you, and now you want to have a drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re right. How ‘bout you let me buy you dinner instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seriously don’t give up, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really. Of course, I could book you for aiming a gun at an officer’s head… If it’ll make you feel better and all. But the food back in lock up is really not uh… edible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, giving him a once over, her eyes coming to rest on his. His eyebrows were raised in hopeful expectation above his dark eyes that in this light turned out to be a rich blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a yes? I feel like that’s a yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” A brilliant smile lit up Freddy’s face and she added, “Fucking lunatic,” before turning around, braid swinging, to head back to the main entrance to the restaurant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner consisted of a shared plate of nachos and a pitcher of beer like they were just college brats. They kept the small talk light and generic - music, movies and books. When the beer ran out, they ordered another. The table was cleared, but they stayed where they were. Delilah was finding it simple and light to hang out with Freddy. Disregarding his initial obstinate refusal to take no for an answer, he did not demand interaction, rather invited it, and she could almost see why those who came to him for help would feel comfortable spilling their concerns to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mentioned a new lead yesterday,” he said after a moment, absently turning his half-drunk beer glass with the tips of his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, ended up being another dead end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s part of the job right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t make it any easier though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah thought about her recent encounter with the Wendigo in Sioux Falls, and the friends that Iris had lost that night. “No. It really doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still see their faces, when I go home, when I’m trying to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The missing kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t always stay missing.” The look in his eyes was far away and Delilah sipped at her beer, recognizing the lost hopelessness in him, the same as what she could see in the mirror. “I remember this one case. We’re talking ten years ago? This kid goes missing. 11 years old. Parents contacted us when he didn’t come home from school. They had waited because they thought that maybe he’d gone to play at a friend’s house. By the evening, they got no news so they start calling around. None of the friends had seen him. We started searching the grid - the main streets, side streets - between the house and the school, but it was getting dark and a snowstorm had been blowing all day. No hope of finding footprints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was hypnotised by the deep sadness in Freddy’s eyes, the rich sound of his voice. He was so far away, she thought he must be seeing everything again in his mind, replaying the memories like an old movie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you find him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The next day. The snow had stopped and it took the dogs no time. He had been hit by a car, or a snowplow, something while walking along a side street. Snow squall must’ve made him invisible to the driver. When we found him, he looked like he had just fallen asleep in the snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah was brought back to her hunt in New Mexico where the changelings had been replacing kids in their homes so they could feed. In the warm restaurant, she found herself once again opening crates, the smell of soiled and unwashed bodies making her eyes water and in the last crates, the bodies of the brother and sister, turned towards each other in their final moments although they were in separate crates. God. What was their name? How the hell could she forget something like that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The names aren’t important, they’re the first thing to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned to look at him, his hand was resting on her arm. It was so warm. Or was her skin cold? Had she been talking out loud? She looked around and realised her beer had gone down significantly. Did she zone out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she said, “I got carried away.” Her tongue felt heavy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way. This is like therapy.” He sat back in his chair, looking around the room at the fellow restaurant patrons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached forward for the remnant of her beer and swallowed it down still feeling cold. “If this is your idea of therapy, then I think I’m going to need something a little stronger than beer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a better cure for what ails you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than a bottle of whiskey? Please, Doctor Freddy. What’s your secret?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just making fun of me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up from the table and for a moment Delilah felt disappointed that he was leaving so soon. Minus the uncomfortable traipsing through memory lane, she had been enjoying herself, she realized. But he did not move away from the table, instead he held his hand out towards her. She stared at it confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, no… You’re gonna leave me hanging like this? Cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head to the side and Delilah turned to see what he was gesturing at. Which was when she spotted the vintage jukebox. Only then did the soft, eerie and very recognizable notes drift into her awareness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you have got to be joking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back towards him, but he was still standing there, his hand midway through the space that separated them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell is wrong with this guy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought again, even as she reached across and lay her hand in his. What the hell was wrong with her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He led her to the small cleared space in front of the jukebox, their fingers barely interlaced like teenagers at a school dance. Then, his hand was on her back, his long fingers splayed across and her hand was on his shoulder. The moment was quickly becoming surreal as they swayed back and forth to the slow rhythm of the song and she could feel the heat of him through their clothes and across the space that separated them. She could already feel the yearning throb compelling her to close that gap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She resisted the urge by forcing her brain to latch onto the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know this whole song is just a metaphor about drug addiction right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so much more than that.” His voice was low and sensual like velvet in her ear and her breath hitched slightly. “It’s about desire and need. The drunken euphoria of indulgence and the desperation of withdrawal.” She was dizzy with the saturation of her senses. She hadn’t felt like this since-- Though she interrupted the thought, green eyes bore into hers and equal parts dread and yearning ran through her. “It’s desire, obsession, sex and the impossibility of escaping from the intensity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed herself closer as they swayed to the languid guitares and Don Henley’s tortured lyrics. His hand was on her hip and the other was holding her face and the lights flashed red. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean’s hand held her close. “I tried to forget you. Tried to get as far away from you as possible. Your blood pumping through me is like a fucking poison.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With a whimper, Delilah’s arms went up around the neck in front of her and she pressed herself against his warm body trying to chase away the cold that had begun to squeeze her heart again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you’re no longer in this world to torment and tempt me, do you think I could finally move on?” the feel of the cold angel blade on her skin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Delilah trembled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could feel his stubbled cheek against her sensitive skin and she turned her head to capture his lips. She pressed herself into him as she devoured his mouth. His hands were on her ass and pressed against the skin of her lower back and it was molten lava setting her on fire. She kissed and clung and when even that wasn’t close enough, her hands started to scramble at his belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was jostled out of her daze by the whistles and catcalls and she tore herself away, taking a step back from Freddy. The dim red lights of the bunker were gone, replaced by warm evening lighting. Freddy’s eyes were wide and he looked as dazed and lost as she felt as he blinked and looked around quickly pushing the leather of his belt back through the buckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to catch her breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She had not gotten that carried away in her life. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She looked up at Freddy: his chest was heaving and a boyish lock of hair had fallen over his blue irises that looked black with desire in the dim lighting. God save her, she wanted more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even a trace of his humour, he said: “Your place, or mine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah followed Freddy as he unlocked the door and swung it open, gesturing for her to go in ahead. Her eyes took in the narrow entrance hall opening up beyond into a larger open area, nothing odd stood out and she dismissed the place as just another bachelor’s home. She let her coat slide down her arms and hung it on a free peg on the coat rack by the door. Freddy held his hand out toward her and she narrowed her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got another magic jukebox hiding in here too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not looking to get shot in my own apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah hesitated a moment, but then pulled the gun from her belt, holster and all, and handed it to him. He took it with a gracious nod of his head and put it down on the little side table along with his own gun and his keys. He toed off his boots, lining them up neatly under the hanging coats and walked around Delilah and down the little hallway towards the open area beyond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah followed his lead, leaving her own boots behind. She watched him as he bent to look inside the refrigerator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get you something? Water? Beer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beer sounds fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straightened up with two bottles in his hand and uncapped them, putting one down in front of her on the island counter. He took a long swig of his as he retreated to lean back against the other counter. Delilah wondered if he had changed his mind about bringing her back here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry about what happened at the bar. I don’t know what got into me,” she said as she reached for her bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know myself. I got carried away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah nodded, bringing the cold beer to her lips to let the bitter taste of hops wash over her tongue and down her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Get me ‘nother cold un, Deedee.” The slurred speech of her father from the couch as she sat in the kitchen doing some homework.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah frowned, wondering what had brought on that particular memory. It was quickly followed by another: </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Got one of those for me?” “Come and get it, Winchester.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She winced and downed another gulp, trying to clear her mind of the intruders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Freddy asked her, his eyebrows knitted in concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked into his dark eyes and a small shudder went through her. It clutched at her heart like a painful memory and continued down into the pit of her belly like a hot coal. It felt like the careful walls she had built around her painful past were throbbing and pounding as the memories swelled and surged trying to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt his hand on her bare arm and turned towards him as he wrapped her tight and held her against him. The storm in her mind surged and it felt like she would be submerged, drowned in everything that she had left behind at the expense of her own identity. She was all of them and none all at once, she was lost and she was tired and she yearned for something she could not find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were touching her, and where they touched, they seared her cold skin and she gasped, feeling the heat curl into her sex with a throb. She looked up at him and his eyes had gone black, his pupils dilated nearly to the edge of his irises, and she crashed her mouth against his, beyond caring what happened next. She just wanted to forget. She was desperate for her nightmare to be over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was a whisper on her skin as he pulled away from her mouth and pressed his cheek to hers. “You’re intoxicating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” she breathed against him as she turned her head to capture his mouth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were on her waist, and then they were tugging at her t-shirt, pulling it up and over her head as she pulled at his too, no spectators to stop them this time in their mad race to be pressed against each other, to be melded together. He lifted her in the air in an effortless show of strength and their chests were skin to skin, that heat scorching her as she wrapped her legs around his hips and ran her nails along his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was tumbling through the air, punch-drunk on the feel of him, as she landed on a soft mattress, sheets already a tangled mess, and his body covered her. She was smothered as the ecstasy coursed through her in electric waves that sang from her head to her toes and back up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groaned into her ear as he sank his cock into her and she cried out wrapping her legs tightly around him and pulling him in with every thrust. Images scrolled by in her mind and his face was superimposed with those of the men she had fucked and those who had abused her prepubescent body and shattered her mind. She cried out as Dean’s fists flew at her face and he fucked her against a table in the library, oblivious to her protests. She could hear Freddy gasping against her ear and it was Dean’s fingers in her pussy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You crave the violence. It’s all you ever wanted. You’re still just daddy’s little whore, aren’t you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The surge of desperation built and built and she could barely breathe as they swelled, threatening to engulf her completely. She could feel the panic rising too, as she lost control of what was happening to her. She was at its mercy. She could feel Dean’s fingers closing on her throat, and greasy stubby hands pawing at her under her skirt, the stale scent of cigarettes leaking through sweaty skin and the sticky semen running down her leg while her father beat her senseless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The violence of her release surprised her and she clung to Freddy’s body, holding him to her as she squeezed him tightly, immobilizing him against her, inside her as she shook like a leaf. With a groan, Freddy rolled off to the side and lay on his back. “Goddamn,” was all he said as the heat left her body. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck was that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought as she came crashing back to her senses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled out of the bed like she had hellhounds on her heels, grabbing her jeans off the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you OK?” he asked her and she turned to look at him as she pulled her pants up. His eyebrows were drawn together as he sat up in the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’m fine.” Something fell to the ground with a clunk and she looked down to see her phone had fallen from her back pocket. She picked it up quickly while scanning for her t-shirt. The flashing light caught her attention though and she swiped the screen to see the notification.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>1 missed call</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When did her phone ring? Her panic was growing as she realized how badly she had lost control. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delilah,” Freddy said, scooting to the foot of the bed and fishing for his boxers. “Wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gotta go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you just slow down a second?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t. I gotta…” I gotta get the fuck out of here!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She located her t-shirt in the kitchen and she threw it on, yanking it down to cover herself before pulling her hair out of the collar. When did her hair get untied? She stuffed her feet in her boots, nearly slicing her left one open on her blade before she remembered it was in there. Freddy stood by at the end of the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. Please, stay. Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spared him a quick glance but every scrap of her soul was telling her to get as far away as possible and without a word, she grabbed her gun and jacket and rushed outside.  The warm summer evening air failed to warm her cold skin and felt like fire in her lungs as she climbed into her car and sped away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you who are curious, I was referring to Hotel California by The Eagles.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rain pattered against the window, casting odd, evening shadows across the dimly lit table of the coffee shop. Neithan looked at the crushed ice, coffee drink nestled between his hands like maybe the cold beverage could warm them. Alariel sat across from him, his expression as neutral and closed as it always seemed on the humanoid avatar’s features.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what happens next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure. Castiel and Hannah will not stop until they have found all of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel’s death was an accident. Adina’s the one who screwed everything up. And she’s gone. Problem solved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel turned his eyes to the skies beyond the pane of glass. “I fear it is not that simple. It was not Adina’s behaviour that initiated their search, but our absence from the Gathering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somehow, I don’t think you’re talking about a Magic: the Gathering tournament.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is what they are calling our new mission. Most of my brothers and sisters have come together. As one, they continue the work we did in Heaven. They are tending to the garden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s gotta be some crazy nice flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If no one tends to the garden, Heaven will fail, and all will be lost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t know that. Unless you have psychic powers I don’t know about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angels can communicate with each other over infinite distances. Our thoughts can be broadcast on a frequency only perceptible to other angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying that Castiel and Hannah can be tuning in to your thoughts, right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Sending and receiving the thoughts of angels is something that we can consciously shut down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, can you listen to them without them listening to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes. The link cannot be one-sided, if I listen, then I can also be heard. I believe this was how we were found. Daniel, in his reflections, must have opened the link long enough to lead them to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it? Ping off the bow and boom, you’re caught?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we could still fly, that would have been true. The purpose of the link was to help humans who prayed to us. We could then descend from the heavens and provide counsel, directly or indirectly. Since the fall, our wings have been reduced to cinders and we can no longer use them this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this thought broadcasting can be done by humans too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most humans do it without realising. The signal can be amplified when the angel’s name is known or with deep emotions: pain, anger, sorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan brought his coffee drink to his lips and sipped while his mind absently absorbed the new information. He had not really given much thought to how Delilah’s voice had made it to him inside his inner sanctum all those weeks ago, but it made sense now: she must have prayed to Alariel. The angel had not shared this particular power with him during their time at the angels’ compound, nor when they had first teamed up. Neithan couldn’t help but wonder what else the angel had kept from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So if you’ve shut down the cell tower of doom, in theory, we should be totally under their radar right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only one of the ways they can find us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. You guys used those painted symbols back at the campsite. You said it was hiding you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are certain sigils we can use to hide our presence and camouflage our essence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK, great. So we can hide, right? And as long as you keep that link shut, stay hidden? Figure out a plan once we’re safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is why I took us away from where Adina left us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? Where are we now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sweep of his arm, Alariel drew Neithan’s attention to the rain streaked windows. The rainy city sidewalk disappeared, replaced by smooth tree trunks sprouted out of a carpet of decaying leaves, rich emerald green moss and mushrooms grew out of stumps of trees long fallen to the forest floor. Eyes wide with wonder, Neithan watched the coffee shop dissolve completely and melt into the forest like washing away a painting. The coffee shop disappeared completely and a breeze stirred the fine hairs at the back of his neck bringing with it the smell of damp decay and fresh new leaves. Caught by the sudden euphoria of being in his body again, Neithan stretched out his arms to the side and turned, taking in the 360 degree view of blue filtered moonlight falling through the cracks between leaves and making the running water of a nearby creek shimmer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shape of an oddly stretched looking man spun into view and Neithan froze to the spot to fix his gaze on Alariel’s avatar. He looked just as he’d looked a moment before, sitting in the coffee shop, but the flawlessly smooth skin, violet eyes and elongated limbs seemed completely out of place in the real world. Alariel stood, gazing in the distance, his hands tucked in his long black coat’s pockets, the fabric ballooning gracefully behind him, like he was standing on a very windy cliff, as opposed to how it should move considering the light breeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How am I seeing you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel turned towards him and cocked his head to the side in reflexion. “How you always see me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, so-- We’re still in my head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ve given you access to the sensory data perceived by your body, but you are not physically in control of your movements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan watched as Alariel moved towards a nearby tree and lay his hand against the bark. Neithan looked down at his own hand. “If you’re the one controlling my body, then shouldn’t I be feeling the bark?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The human mind is keen to disregard that which does not correspond to its perceived reality.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers, feeling the skin tighten across his knuckles, but no rough bark against his palm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if I told you, everything you think is true is a lie?</span>
  </em>
  <span> A shiver ran through Neithan and he quickly rubbed his palm against the rough denim of his jeans. “Jeeze, Matrix much?” he mumbled to himself as he directed his gaze back to the angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alariel closed his eyes and suddenly a bright white light began to emanate from his palm and disappeared into the tree. Bright light erupted from the bark of several of the trees lining the small clearing they were in and Neithan turned in frantic circles. As the brightness faded to a dull amber glow, he could make out the symbols that had been etched into the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. That is seriously cool. But, if angels find each other through energy signatures and thought frequencies, couldn’t they find us when you do stuff like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The energy signature can only be accurately located from a certain distance. Without the power of flight, they must rely on mundane modes of transportation. These sigils specifically ward against outsiders finding us. Assuming that no angel was close enough to reach us, we are now hidden and our location is unfindable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neithan looked around at the trees around the small clearing and at the impenetrable darkness of the woods beyond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we’re just going to hang out in these woods until… Castiel gives up looking for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They will not give up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the heck is the point then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are free to return to your games if you prefer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, no, that’s not what I’m saying. Is there a plan? You’re not seriously just going to sit my body down in the middle of some damp forest just to stay hidden, are you? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are safe here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK, yes, I get that, and believe me, I appreciate the whole “safe” part of this plan, but why would you want to do this? How long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange throbbing pulse hit Neithan like a sudden pressure drop and he shook his head, trying to shake away the dizziness. “What was that?” Alariel had his back to him, staring at something beyond the treeline. “‘Lare? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The piercing pain in his head nearly blinded him as he fell to his knees clutching his skull. Bright light turned the dark forest into an endless flat expanse of white. Neithan squeezed his eyes shut as the pulse intensified and made his brain want to leak out his ears. Slowly, the pressure abated. He opened his eyes and found himself in the coffee shop once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lare!” he yelled at the ceiling, but the angel did not appear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, I prepared your usual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Neithan spun around to find the cute barista holding out a frappuccino. “No thanks. Lare, damnit!” he yelled again, turning away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I prepared your usual,” said the girl again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a good ti-- Holy shit!” Neithan startled as he turned to face the girl again. She was standing in the same spot, holding out his coffee drink and smiling, but she was looking blurred, like she was losing resolution. “What’s wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” She cocked her head to the side and her face seemed to melt. Her eyes, nose and mouth became shapeless bumps and depressions. Neithan took a step back as the lights began to strobe and flicker. The humanoid lump that had previously been the girl of his dreams took a step towards him, her arm reaching for him. Neithan bumped against the edge of one of the tables as he backed into it and he caught himself with his hands. The lights flickered again and the girl took another step. Thin, spider web-like cracks appeared in the tiles on the floor and spread out towards the walls and ceiling like cracked porcelain. The very air was vibrating with the pressure increasing on the little coffee shop, which was really just a projection in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The background music that Neithan had never really bothered noticing before, swelled and faded in waves matching the pressure pulses, and with every pulse a little more of the coffee shop flaked away like chipped paint. The people turned to dust clouds, the particles suspended in the air where the bodies had been, filling the room with a hazy smog. The tables, chairs, and booths were next as more and more of the room puffed out of existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were voices, he realized, voices that spoke rhythmically in a foreign language over the speakers in the shop… only the speakers were gone and the voices were coming in from all around, right through the walls as they crumbled to nothing. The pressure in his head drove Neithan to the ground, the last of the shop now floating particles in a vague, inestimably vast space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lare, please,” he sobbed into his knees as his heart raced in his chest. “What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Neithan found himself in the woods again, the overbright lighting of the coffee shop dimmed to a grey darkness lit up only by the moon and he turned to look at the sigils carved magically in the trees around him. What was happening? Were they under attack? This had never happened before. Neithan felt heavy, like he had just stepped out of an anti gravity chamber. Alariel’s avatar was nowhere to be seen in the dim clearing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lilting chant grew louder coming at him from the very trees and Neithan couldn’t help the fear building in his belly as his head throbbed and his vision wavered with each pulse of words. The thought occurred to him that if everything in Alariel’s mind had turned to dust, maybe that’s what was happening to him too. He looked down at his hands, looking for the tell-tale cracking, but he could not get his arms to bend at the elbows. He was frozen and could not move. Like a balloon being filled with air, he could feel his skin expanding… or was it the air retreating from around him casting him into a void? Neithan keened and groaned, his mind discombobulating as his sense of self imploded leaving him feeling nothing, knowing nothing, and being nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The coffee was getting cold as Delilah gazed absently at the table. Like a ball on a bungee cord, her thoughts turned again to the previous evening, and she again attempted to banish Freddy from her mind. It should not have been that hard to do. It was hardly her first one night stand that had taken a bit of a strange turn. And yet--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange turn? More like a fucking nightmare. She couldn’t figure out what had triggered the graphic, multisensorial memories of Kansas City but whatever had done it, she could not seem to get Jack back in the box. Her father’s hurtful words were haunting her now just as surely as Dean’s insults, as present and fresh in her mind as when they had first been spoken. The ghosts of her past crowded around her like a painful buffer separating her from the outside world. She felt detached and hollow just as she’d felt every time she’d been molested and raped in her own bed, bruised and beaten by lovers, abusers and her father alike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The odor of stale cigarettes seeping out of greasy, sweaty pores assaulted her suddenly and she nearly gagged from the remembered scent made fresh by misfiring synapses in her brain. She clutched at her hair and lowered her head, fighting to keep her cool as the tears that had been threatening throughout her sleepless night began to roll down her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Delilah,” said Castiel’s unmistakable voice. She quickly wiped the tears away and took a steadying breath. She looked up at the angel who was forever dressed in the same blue suit under his tan trench coat, just like the first time she’d met him. Or almost--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Is it casual Friday already?” Thank God for distractions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel frowned. “It’s Wednesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Fucking Literal. Delilah pointed to his unusually bare shirt and unbuttoned collar. “Did you lose your tie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left it in the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Anyways. Thanks for meeting me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Fucking migraine is all.” It almost wasn’t a lie, her head had been pounding since she had left Freddy’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s hand came into quick focus as he stretched his arm towards her. She startled back and Castiel stopped moving, a frown wrinkling his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only mean to alleviate the pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing a couple Aspirin and a few hours sleep won’t fix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel slowly lowered his arm back to his side and looked away. From the pursing of his lips, Delilah thought he actually looked annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that I’m pulling you away from your mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head to look at her again and nodded. With one last quick sweep of the surrounding tables, Castiel sat down across from her. His intense gaze quickly fixed itself on her eyes, leaving no doubt that she had his entire attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mentioned on the phone that you needed help with a case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam told me that I should ask you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown was back, but he didn’t say anything. Delilah pressed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I know that you’re looking for rogue angels. I was thinking we could pool our resources. Joint effort?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You drove to Ohio to offer your help in searching for angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I mean, I was hunting in the area, I figured--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could team up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! I can be your connection to the human mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s gaze was like an x-ray into her soul as he failed to blink for a solid minute. “That’s not a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? I know I’m not Sam, or-- but I’m not useless either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah doesn’t trust you. The friction could interfere with the search.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t particularly like her either, remember? It won’t be a problem. I can behave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel failed to blink at her again, the intensity behind the rich blue irises, thoroughly alien, or maybe simply angelic, was making her skin crawl. He tilted his head to the side a fraction of a degree and Delilah gave in to her urge to break the eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can talk to Hannah, but I want to know why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you why.” Delilah made the mistake of looking at him again and found herself in another staring contest. She hadn’t stood a chance. “OK, fine. Cards on the table. I’m looking for Neithan. I think he might be in trouble. He reached out to me a couple weeks ago and he sounded scared. He said he needed my help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An angel reached out to you for help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t think it was the angel. I think the vessel called me. I’m thinking the angel might be the issue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alariel and Neithan have a unique bond. I don’t think he would let his vessel get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried. He asked for my help and then blipped out of contact. I have to find him. He’s just a kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel sat back against the seat and although he continued to look at Delilah. Some of the intensity left his gaze, and it was much more comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our mission is not that precise. We can’t locate a specific angel who has severed the connection with his brothers and sisters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what’s happening with Nei-- Alariel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel slowly nodded his head. “We suspect that’s what he’s done. I haven’t been able to detect his Grace specifically, not since he took off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you last see him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Four days ago. We’ve been tracking them down since then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah could barely contain her excitement. This meant Castiel had seen Neithan after she had received the call. She felt partly relieved: at least Alariel was still keeping his vessel safe, but if Castiel had found him, why did he run off again? She didn’t know enough to even start guessing as to his reasons. Maybe it wasn't about himself at all. Had he decided to pair up with another angel? Safety in numbers?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alariel is with Adina.” Well that wasn't a name she was familiar with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did they run away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel shifted in his seat. Delilah frowned, it was not often that she had seen him look uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were circumstances.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How very CIA of you.” Castiel’s answering frown amused her. “Listen, I won’t get in your way. Just let me tag along. Worst case scenario, it really doesn’t work and we can go our separate ways again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It could be dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Delilah’s turn to look at him intensely. “We’re after the same thing. You want Alariel to go home with you and I want to make sure that Neithan can hug his mom again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Castiel quietly nodded and not another second was lost - like hell was Delilah going to give him the chance to change his mind. She paid for her undrunk coffee and followed Castiel out the door. There were only a few cars in the lot and her eyes quickly fell on the tan Lincoln against which the dark haired Hannah was leaning. She was wearing the same outfit she had worn at Castiel’s compound that suggested her vessel was toeing the line between the edgy side of fashion, and soccer mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear, as they got closer, that Hannah was less than happy to see her. Even after Castiel explained his reasoning, Hannah kept staring daggers at Delilah, though she did reluctantly agree to let her come with them. The angels climbed into their car and Delilah glanced back at her own blue Dart a few parking spaces away. She wasn’t leaving her car behind: it was definitely not as inconspicuous as her old Tercel, and besides, she couldn’t shake her mistrust. The last thing she wanted was to be stranded with no way to get around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold up,” she called out to Castiel before he closed the driver’s door. “I’m going to follow you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It makes more sense to take the same vehicle. We could get separated otherwise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what cell phones are for, genius.” Delilah caught Hannah rolling her eyes. “Just give me an idea of where we’re headed, and promise to answer your cell phone when I call, and I’ll figure out the rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. We’re headed for Pennsylvania.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where in Pennsylvania?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not sure yet. We’ll know more when we get closer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Eastbound it is. Call me when you feel like you’re close to your destination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah walked away and got in her car. She contemplated the drive ahead, destination and duration unknown, just following a couple of angels who did not need to sleep, eat, or stop to pee. Her headache chose that moment to pound the inside of her skull. With a groan, she reached for the bottle of Aspirin she had stashed in the glove compartment earlier that day when she had driven down from Michigan to meet with Castiel. She popped two in her mouth and swallowed them as she watched the tan Lincoln reverse out of its parking and head for the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifted out of neutral and pointed the hood to follow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah grabbed the grease stained bag of take out from the passenger seat. She straightened up and stretched, relieved to be out of the car for more than pee breaks and gas (turns out the angels never tired, but their car still needed fuel). Delilah had been on the road for almost a full day - eating drive-thru and downing cardboard cup after cardboard cup of battery acid coffee in order to stay alert as she followed the tan coloured flat ass of Castiel’s Lincoln Continental. She had unintentionally memorized his license plate too: an inevitable side effect of having nothing else to look at for miles at a time. They had mainly been cruising along on I-80, Castiel’s driving speed swinging from granny-on-a-Sunday-morning to NASCAR’s-got-nothing-on-me, making her curse as she had to alternate between smashing down the accelerator to catch up and slamming the brakes to avoid colliding with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone in her car, she had jumped from one scratchy radio station to the next, not really caring what was playing as long as it drowned out her thoughts; she did not want to keep revisiting the events of the past couple days, or what had happened at the bunker, or her fucked up adolescence. The thoughts paid her no mind though, and as Delilah’s eyes absently watched the dotted dividing line of the two eastbound lanes, she had found herself pondering these events and subconsciously drawing lines and parallels where none existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had called Sam, though he hadn’t picked up so she left him a message to let him know she was with Castiel. She had also called Jody, updating her on her search for Neithan. She left out the parts about the drinking, and Freddy. Jody only had good things to say about Castiel, though she had never met him herself, Sam and Dean always spoke highly of him, and she was relieved to hear that Delilah wasn’t alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had driven through the night, keeping the course steady, but in the early hours before dawn, Castiel called her to let her know they were heading off the highway. They had been circling ever since, moving through barely there towns, and long country roads with no clear direction. It felt like she was following Dory after forgetting where she was going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When dinnertime started creeping up on her again, she could hardly believe that they had just been driving around for nearly a full 24 hours; and she hadn’t slept since the night before that. The angels showed no sign of stopping on their own, and it was clear that they had no idea where they were going, so when their meandering brought them through a slightly larger town bordering I-80, she found herself steering into the parking lot of a motel. The rundown single-floor motel complex was a sight for sore eyes and a damn relief for her numb ass. She checked in at the front desk, then dragged herself to room 12 and collapsed onto the creaking mattress. She called Castiel and told him where to find her. They needed to regroup and come up with a new strategy; one that didn’t involve meandering along backroads and praying for an angelic sign. A smile on her face, she decided to take a quick cat nap while she waited for the angels to show up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Delilah awoke to the sound of arguing voices just outside the poorly insulated motel door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just wanted to be left alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without rules, there’s chaos. Out of chaos rise angels like Naomi, Bartholomew, Metatron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah sat up on the mattress, and absently noted that she had fallen asleep with her boots on. The number of times she had seen the Winchesters with their boots in bed, and wondered how that could happen flitted in and out of her mind. She shook away the distracting thought and focused on what she could hear the angels arguing about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But those are human things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices stopped and Delilah felt this was a good time to invite the angels in. She rubbed at her dried out eyes, the nap clearly not enough to return her to full energy bars. She doubted she’d even had the chance to slip into REM sleep. With a groan, she stood from the bed and headed for the door. She pulled on the door knob and addressed the angels on the stoop with her back turned as she made a beeline for the room’s kitchenette in search of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t locked it, you realize, you could have let yourselves in and let me sleep a little longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to give you space. It’s supposed to be important to humans. Besides, Dean has often told me he dislikes it when I stand by while he sleeps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned away from her search of the few cabinets with a frown. “That happens a lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel pursed his lips and gave a slight nod. “More frequently when I could fly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good point. That does gives off a kinda creepy stalker vibe.” She turned back to her search and finally pulled an oversized red plastic Folgers container, no doubt bought at Costco, from one of the cupboards and she breathed in the coffee smell, relieved to find plenty of grounds to brew a pot of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is pointless.” Hannah’s annoyance grated on Delilah’s nerves and she chose to try and ignore her as much as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Castiel! We are wasting time. We must keep searching for Alariel and Adina, they are the last of the rogues.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean the last that you haven’t killed.” Delilah ventured out loud while she set the coffee maker to percolate. She turned around to face Hannah and was met by the angel’s chilling stare and Delilah knew she had guessed the fate of the hunted angels correctly. She turned to Castiel. “Is that what you meant about </span>
  <em>
    <span>circumstances</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t give him the chance to say anything, enjoying feeling a little control over the situation. She walked over to her duffel bag and started pulling out fresh clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are we putting up with this insult? We do not need a human to help us track down our own. She is a nuisance and she is wasting our time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah smirked to herself before turning to face the two angels. She should take naps more often, she decided, enjoying the return of her clear thoughts and instincts. “I’ve been following you all up and down the countryside here. Whatever signal you picked up that led you to Pennsylvania, you’ve lost it. So, this is what’s going to happen: I’m going to take a shower and drink at least two cups of this cheap coffee and then we’ll get to work searching for the vessels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah gave Hannah a hard stare to show her determination and glanced at Castiel’s closed-off expression quickly before turning away to disappear behind the bathroom door. She was almost convinced that they would ditch her, and she couldn’t help but feel partly relieved. She leaned back against the closed door and she could hear them talking again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you let her speak to you like this? You are Seraphim. You have commanded armies. Yet, you are obedient to these humans; first Dean Winchester and now his concubine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, I can continue the search on my own if you’re uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean alone with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah frowned, was that jealousy? If she’d heard that tone in any human, that’s exactly what she would have thought, but Hannah? What did she have to be jealous of?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just think the Winchesters are a bad influence on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned to start the shower, her weariness making her want to just switch off, but not before she heard Castiel’s response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam and Dean may be a bit rough around the edges, but they’re the best men I’ve ever known. And they’re my friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah turned on the water and the rest of the conversation was completely drowned out by the drumming of the water on her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Showered and feeling refreshed, she rejoined the angels in the cramped motel room, ready to show them that she wasn’t as useless as Hannah thought she was. She pulled her laptop and her tablet out of her bags and set herself up at the rickety table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel mentioned that angels can basically turn off, or tune out, or whatever from the network, which basically makes them invisible to other angels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can still see the other angels.” Hannah crossed her arms on her chest and huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, I meant that you couldn’t sense their location.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah glanced at Hannah and thought that if angels could kill just by looking at you, Delilah would be in serious trouble. As it was, she wasn’t going to get within touching distance. She went back to her computer, trying to gain access to the Pennsylvania credit database, like Sam had taught her to do on one of their hunts. “Tracking Alariel this way is difficult, because he possessed a sixteen-year-old, but you told me he was traveling with this Adina, and I’m thinking her vessel’s movements will be easier to track.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel moved one of the other two chairs and sat down beside her so he could see what she was looking at on her screen. She barely got a hint of a scent from the angel, like lightning and citrus, as he leaned in closer, his elbows on his knees, before Hannah wedged as much of herself as was possible in the gap between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah’s skin was doing its best to crawl off her bones. She ignored the angel’s odd behaviour and focused on her search. It took her a bit more time than she would’ve liked to gain access to the database; Delilah blamed the angry angel breathing down her neck. The important thing was, she did get in. She could hardly contain the sigh of relief as the secure page loaded, ready to give her the last transactions a perp had made. All she needed was the vessel’s name, which Castiel gladly supplied to the soundtrack of another series of huffs from the peanut gallery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Hannah, there is actually another chair you could sit on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly comfortable standing. Angels aren’t feeble like humans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah rolled her eyes, what the hell was Hannah on? She jerked her shoulder back a little, trying to fight the discomfort of having two angels crowding her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah,” Castiel said simply and she moved away and stood behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relieved to have a little space, Delilah entered Janet Larson into the search field and hit return. While she waited for the results to load, she glanced at the movement reflected in the screen and frowned. Hannah’s hand had picked at something on Castiel’s trench coat shoulder. He seemed completely oblivious to this, just like he hadn’t noticed that while he was watching Delilah’s computer screen avidly, Hannah had become fixated on his hair. What was that all about?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour passed, and the minutes were quickly building up to another. The coffee was all drunk and Delilah’s eyes were starting to feel dry and tired again. No matter what she tried, the information on the screen revealed nothing about Adina/Janet’s whereabouts. She had tried everything she could think of, using any and all databases in Pennsylvania she could gain access to. Hannah was seriously getting on her last nerve; she was pacing back and forth behind her and huffing impatiently and muttering passive-aggressive comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel, can you tell your girlfriend to shut up please? I’m getting a headache and her piss poor attitude is making it worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frown wrinkled his brow. “My girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hear you," huffed Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank God! And here I thought you couldn’t hear shit with all the teeth grinding you’re doing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah’s eyes widened incredulously, “You’re the reason Castiel and I had to stop our search, twice now! Your human needs are completely compromising our mission!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My human needs?” Delilah could no longer contain the anger and frustration that had been building in her and begging for an outlet for months now. She stood up, knocking back her chair. “If your fucking mission keeps stalling it’s because your special abilities are fucking failing you. Are you even an angel at all? You can’t even track two of your own. No wonder they don’t want shit to do with you, you’re a goddamn psychopath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You dare to address me this way? You are but an insect! Just one of the billions crawling around on this earth helpless and useless. What power do you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna see the kind of power I have? I’ve killed your kind before, you think I can’t fucking defend myself, bitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah took a step towards the angel, ready to charge her and tackle her to the ground. A glint of a reflection pulled her attention to the angel’s hand where her blade had appeared. Delilah was seeing red. She drew her gun and pointed it right at Hannah's face. She knew the bullets wouldn’t kill her, but she was hoping to pump her full with as many bullets as she could, just in case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah didn’t get a chance to do anything, as her view was suddenly obstructed by Castiel’s tan fabric covered shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough.” His voice was assertive and left no room for discussion or argument. “Stop this. We are not on opposite sides. This quarrel is pointless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree. We should get back on the road and far away from this child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, Delilah is right. Our usual methods are not working. We have completely lost all trace of Alariel and Adina. We are not made weaker by accepting her help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah moved to the side and watched as Hannah stood stiffly by the motel door. For a moment, she looked like she might stomp out, but then she put away her blade and walked right past them to the back corner of the room where there was just the cramped bathroom. Delilah and Castiel turned to follow her movements. Delilah was wary of the angel, thinking she might defy Castiel and lash out at her regardless of consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she actually did caught Delilah so completely off guard, she could do nothing but stare in dumb silence. Hannah had stripped down with mechanical speed and precision and now stood completely naked. She turned to face them both when Castiel said her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cocked her head to the side. “I’m taking a shower," she said matterfactly, like her actions were commonplace and her intentions obvious. Castiel, however, clearly thought the behaviour was odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t need to shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Are you--?” she added coyly, “Does this bother you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bothered? I… I’m not--” Castiel was standing even more stifly than usual, which seemed impossible to Delilah, though the proof was right there. His eyes refused to settle on anything either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smug little smile in Delilah’s direction, Hannah turned around and disappeared in the bathroom, failing to close the door behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit. You’ve got yourself a seriously psycho girlfriend, Castiel.” Delilah shook away her surprise and the leftover anger from being picked at by Hannah, and sat back down at her computer with an incredulous huff. “And you! Seriously? </span>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t need to shower</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she said, lowering her voice in an approximation of the angel’s gravelly tones. “I get that maybe the other signals were lost on you, but that right there is the most straightforward come-hither I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand.” Castiel sat back down as well, but his eyes flitted back to the bathroom, from which Delilah could hear the sounds of the activated shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been getting yourself a little cloud action? Mixing business with pleasure? Putting your vessels to good use?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could see it on his face when he finally understood her meaning - his confused frown shifting into a more thoughtful frown. “No. Love and lust are human concepts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me angels don’t fuck? No wonder you guys are such stiffs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not unheard of for angels to occasionally mate with humans, there have been a few nephilim born of such unions. Angels in their celestial form do sometimes develop very strong bonds with another angel, but it’s not a physical act. It’s more a melding of celestial essence. Like blending sound waves to create a new chord.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah raised her eyebrows. “So… angels don’t have sex… they sing? Church choirs must look like orgies to you. Christ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is far beyond the satisfying of a physical need. It’s more akin to the concept of soul mates, which I know is treated as a simplistic romantic notion to most of humankind, but those whose souls are bound to each other would agree that it goes far beyond physical compatibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah shook her head, soul mates? Give me a break. “You tell yourself whatever you want, angel boy, but that celestial essence in a woman’s body is looking at you like she wants to get physical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah went back to searching the hacked sites for information on her target, but absolutely nothing was coming up. She decided to change tactics and she spent the next hour shifting her search parameters to miracles and other such angelic clues. She looked longingly at the now empty pot of coffee, but she knew that more caffeine would do very little to unmuddle her senses. She glanced down at the time on her computer and was nearly overwhelmed by fatigue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel must have been paying closer attention to her body language than she realized, because as she struggled to keep her eyelids up, he spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need sleep. Why don’t you lay down a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah couldn't help but think of Hannah's criticism and the obstinate eill to prove her wrong about her weak human needs, but Castiel was right, her exhaustion was well past the point of cohesive thought. “I think you might be right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up when she did, and she headed for the bed, feeling her arms and legs growing heavier the closer she got. She sank onto the mattress and removed her boots this time before laying her head on the pillow. Much to her frustration, she found that her senses were still on high alert, and though her eyes were closed, she could hear every little sound the angels in the room made. When they started speaking to each other, though they kept their voices low, it was like shouts bullying their way down her ear canal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This road we’re on, Hannah, it’s dangerous. We can’t afford to lose our way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh God, Delilah didn’t want to hear this shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can't waste time on detours… of any kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Castiel, if these are metaphors and you’re attempting another human communication, it isn’t working.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to say that this mission is everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finding the last of the rogues, we need total focus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree. Which is why I don’t understand why she is here. Surely, she is much more distraction than help in this instance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve said before that Delilah can be helpful considering our limitations. What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been around humans long enough to see how easily distractions occur. Emotions, feelings. They’re dangerous temptations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How very biblical.” Her tone had gotten significantly colder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean to be unkind--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to be kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to keep our priorities clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah raised her voice slightly, sounding tense once again. “Not to worry then. I am very clear on my priorities… and yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Delilah heard footsteps leading to the door and the click of the latch as she pulled it shut behind her. Delilah forced her heavy eyelids open as she rolled onto her back and lifted her head to look at Castiel who was standing in the centre of the room looking dejected and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smooth, dude,” she muttered as she dropped her head back on her pillow. “How ‘bout you go after her and let me get some shut eye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call if there’s anything new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds great. Don’t forget to hit the lightswitch on your way out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled back onto her side as the latch again clicked into position. Alone in the quiet darkness, Delilah finally succumbed, slipping into deep and dreamless sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>👼</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a WIP, and much to my own disappointment, a much more difficult labour of love than I expected. I still cannot give you a timeline for when it will be complete, but rest assured that though it feels like this story is inching along (especially considering the infinite amount of personal time I now have) I've got it all mapped out and I fully intend to keep chipping away at it until it's done.  The same goes for the series (I've got the plots outlined for stories right up to the end of season 10... and already a few rough ideas for how to continue it beyond)</p><p>Thank you for following me on Delilah's journey and thank you for your love and patience!<br/>Yours always,</p><p>SoulSurvivor_36 aka Lisy</p></blockquote></div></div>
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